Chasing Cars
by burnedupasun
Summary: Daryl ran after the car that took Beth for over a day, but he didn't stop. He didn't give in. He caught up, and he saved her, and he made them pay.
1. Chapter 1

****A/N: So this happened. It's a canon divergence from "Alone", where Daryl actually catches up to the car that caught Beth and, well, you'll see. It is not a one-shot, it is going to be a chapter fic. Enjoy!**

_Failed her, failed her, failed her._

Daryl's feet beat out the rhythm of those accusatory words as they pounded over the pavement for mile after mile. The sun had risen again and begun to set since he'd failed her, and he was still running, running, never stopping, chasing after her, because there was no way in hell he was gonna stop.

He'd already failed her once. He'd already let her get taken, let her get dragged into that fucking car somehow, watched it drive off with her inside. There had been no way he was gonna let them take her even further from him. So he'd done the only thing he could do: he'd run.

Daryl had been running for so long now that he didn't even feel the pain in his feet anymore. He didn't feel winded, didn't feel exhausted, didn't feel hungry. He felt like all the times he'd been building up his endurance, all the times he'd gotten used to going without food, without sleep, had all led to this. He knew technically it had been to help him survive, but what was the point of surviving without her? There wasn't one.

There was no point in living without the one bright, shining being that he'd only just begun to realize made it all worth it. Because that was what Beth Greene was. The flicker of a match in the endless darkness, sparking, blooming to push away the night that seemed to close in tighter with each day. He refused to let that flame get blown out, get taken from him, not when he'd just begun to not only accept but _enjoy_ the way it shown so warm on his skin and his shriveled, disused heart.

So he ran, and even when he came to a crossing in the road he didn't stop. He spun, gasping for breath and barely noticing, refusing to give in to the urge to fall to his ground and give up 'cause he couldn't give up, not on her, not ever.

_Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith_.

He chose left, and if someone had been there to ask him why he wouldn't have been able to answer. Maybe it was the same gut instinct that guided him towards a doe in the forest, or helped him lead the way to an abandoned cabin that was just safe enough for the night. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe it was faith. Maybe instead, some dim rusty part of him could see feel the pull of that flickering flame.

Or maybe it was just luck; because it sure as shit seemed like luck when twenty minutes later he came to a sudden stop at the sight of that damn car pulled over on the side of the road up ahead. Black car, white cross on the back, right there in front of him. He didn't have to wonder what had gotten in their way, because the small pile of dead walkers on the road was all the answer he needed. They must have taken them out quietly, because Daryl sure as hell would have heard some gunshots otherwise.

As if suddenly realizing he was in their line of sight, he crouched down low, partially to keep out of view but also just to catch his breath for a moment and study them. Two men, one bending down to drag a walker corpse away from the car and the other standing by the open back door to look inside. No, not just men, _cops_. He recognized uniforms like that from a mile away; after all he'd spent a good part of his adulthood avoiding them with his brother. For a second he wondered if they hadn't taken Beth just to try and save her from the walkers in the funeral home. Despite his instincts still clamoring about that too-perfect place being a trap, they were _cops_, after all. Maybe they'd seen her in trouble and swooped in to save her, maybe she'd been knocked out and hadn't been able to tell them to go back for him...

Then he heard them speak.

Sound carried out in the middle of nowhere, even more these days when there were no people around, no cars on the roads, nothing else making a sound except the wind and the wildlife. Their conversation echoed across the pavement and what he heard made his jaw clench.

"She's a sweet piece, this one. Best we've caught in one of our traps in ages."  
>"Did you see the way she killed that walker, right before we hit her? Bet she's a feisty one, too."<br>"Well don't get too excited, O'Donnell. This feisty one is gonna be mine, I'm already laying claim."  
>"Shit, Gorman, come on now..."<p>

Rage boiled over inside of him not just at their words, but at the way the dark haired one- _Gorman_, the one who was trying to claim _Beth_- was leaning over and staring into the back of the seat, where he could only assume Beth was laying. He had to assume she wasn't conscious, not just cause they'd mentioned hitting her, but because he knew Beth. She'd be clawing at them right now, all spitfire and rage for talking to her like that.

Their words were bad enough, but seeing that piece of shit lean in and run his hands over what he could only assume was Beth in the back seat, well, that was the last straw. He rose up with a growl, stumbling forward on exhausted legs, too driven to lay down and give up, now when it came to her. He shuffled towards them intently, his crossbow hanging heavy from his hand as he slowly but surely closed the distance between them.

Gorman looked up and seemed to sigh as he said, "Got another dead one coming," before his attention shifted to the back seat again.

He figured it must have been the way he was walking, shambling down the street like something dead. They couldn't have known that the only death he carried was for them, that his shambling was the gait of a man who had run an entire day and wouldn't stop until he'd brought them down.

The cop in the back by the walkers- _O'Donnell_, his mind whispered, not that he needed to know the name of the man to kill him- reached for the gun at his waist, but Daryl didn't plan on giving them a chance to put him down, let alone to figure out he was still kicking. At least not until it was too late for them. He should have been too exhausted to even lift his bow, but with her name echoing through his mind and pulsing in his veins and vibrating through his bones (_Beth, Beth, Beth, Beth_), a fire fueled him that couldn't be denied. In a swift movement Daryl raised his crossbow, sighted on the taller cop, and shot him right through the eye.

It was only when his partner fell dead to the ground that Gorman looked up again from where he was leering at Beth's prone body in the backseat. God, but the idiot was slow to move, and it only made Daryl more angry, knowing that this slow fucker had gotten the jump on him, had gotten_Beth_. Then again, the way he slowly glanced behind him at the fallen body of his comrade only gave Daryl the time he needed to get close. By the time the cop turned sharply in the other direction, Daryl was just a foot away, fury burning in his eyes.

"Ain't no walker," he growled out as he grasped the man's shirt in both hands and slammed him to the side of the car. "And she ain't yours. She ain't never gonna be yours, and you're gonna regret ever even thinkin' you could touch somethin' as good as her, you piece of fucking shit."

In the minutes that followed, everything was just red and black rage pulsing to the beat of his head, the feeling of bones cracking beneath his fists as he punched and punched until he couldn't tell if the blood on his hands belonged to the cop, or to him. The only thing that could have pulled him out of it was a threat to Beth, and in the end it was a shuffle and a groan from off to his left that broke through the cloud of rage and caught his attention. He looked up from where Gorman lay on the pavement beneath him with his face a bloodied mess, and saw a walker shuffling forward, heading right for the open car door and the brown cowboy boots sticking out of the back seat.

_Beth_.

Daryl clutched his knife in one bloodied hand, rose to his feet, and stabbed it right through the walker's eye. It's body was still falling to the ground as he spun around and dropped to his knees by the prone body of the cop. His knife hovered over the man's barely recognizable face as he leaned in nice and close and breathed out, "Got anything else to say?"

He should have known that you couldn't beat idiocy out of a man. After all, his father had never managed to beat it out of him, had he? And he certainly hadn't beated it out of the asshole on the ground below him, who took his last breath to gasp, "Only a matter of time... someone's gonna... give your little piece what she... really needs."

A cloud of red rage pulsed in his mind and he growled low in his throat as he pressed the tip of his blade to the man's neck, but he held it back to breathe out, "She ain't mine. She ain't anyone's but her own. But I'm hers, and that's where you fucked up. Cause I'll die before I let anyone touch her again." With that, he slid the knife across the man's throat and rose to his feet. He didn't deserve a mercy blow to the head. He deserved to bleed out here on this hot Georgia road, until he turned. He deserved to spend eternity in hell, but since Daryl couldn't manage that, hell on earth would have to suffice for now.

Every bone and muscle in his body screamed as he rose to his feet, but he only allowed himself a second to stand there in the middle of the road. It wasn't time to give in yet. He _couldn't_ give in yet, because Beth needed him still. So Daryl forced his weary bones to move, forced himself to shuffle to the back of the car and finally peer inside.

She was laying on her side across the back seat, and _fuck_, if he hadn't already killed both the men who had taken her, he would have done it all over again for what he saw in front of him. There was a cut right across her cheek, still bleeding, a bruise across her shoulder that disappeared under the collar of her shirt, and a matching one purpling the skin of her wrists where it hung over the edge of the seat to dangle down. He didn't have to look any closer at that wrist to realize there was something wrong with it, something out of place. At the very least it had been sprained and at the worse, fractured or broken.

Anger surged hot as a wildfire in his body again and the only thing stopping him from laying back into the now-dead body of that sonofabitch cop was the sight of her sprawled unconscious in front of him, _needing_ him. She was a fighter, she could save herself any other time, but right now she needed him to protect her and keep her safe, and he wasn't gonna fail her again.

He only considered the car for a second. Sure he was tired, sure he could take the keys and drive them somewhere far away, somewhere safe. But cops like this, cops who had cars and traps and talked about claiming girls; they weren't alone. They had friends at the least, but there was a good chance they even had some sort of organization or group. Either way it meant people who might come after them if they didn't communicate, which meant that taking the car risked running into the friends of the same men who had run down an innocent girl and talked of making her their own like she was a possession. Like she was a thing to be owned and used.

In the end it was a risk and the last thing he was going to do ever again was take risks when it came to _her_ life.

So despite his aching bones Daryl did the only thing that seemed logical, the only thing that seemed right. He leaned down and scooped her gently into his arms to pull her from the back of the car.

Daryl tried not to think about how just over a day ago he had been holding her like this only she had been conscious then. He tried not to remember how she had been laughing in his arms and holding him back as he carried her into the kitchen. He tried not to think of flickering candlelight and big blue eyes and her soft, breathless, _oh_...

(He though he didn't deserve to think about things like that, not right now. Maybe not ever anymore.)

But the weight of her in his arms now gave him unexpected strength as he held her close, as he stepped over the lifeless bodies of the cops he'd killed to save her, and returned at last to the woods. Here at least, he felt right. Here he could keep her safe, or at least safer than out there on the roads where the dredges of humanity stalked and preyed in ways that were somehow worse than those of the shambling dead.

In the woods everything seemed clearer. The rage faded away, leaving behind only concern for the limp girl in his arms. Her flame wasn't out, he_had her_, but he felt like that light was guttering with the way she lay in his arms, still, unmoving. "_Beth_," he whispered, instinctively shifting a hand to cradle her head close to his chest as he strode as silently as he could through the forest. "C'mon, girl..."

He didn't know what was the right thing to say. It was like a goddamn curse of his when it came to her. In the face of Beth and her knowing blue eyes, he was always rendered speechless. It wasn't the chosen silence that he'd perfected over years and years of keeping people at a distance, keeping everything private, never revealing any of his hidden truths. It was the kind of silence of wanting to speak but being unable to find the words. Looking at her would fill him up with thoughts and emotions he'd never had to deal with before, and so maybe it wasn't surprising that he didn't have the words to express them.

But he wanted to, and that was the frustrating part. He wanted to be able to do more than just stare at her in flickering candlelight until she breathed out a soft 'oh' that told him she'd somehow understood even without words. He wanted her to understand _with_ his words, like he wanted to be able to find the words to say now, the right words to pull her out of whatever darkness she might be in and bring her back to him.

Daryl walked for what felt like a mile or two, carrying her heavy in his arms, straining his exhausted mind to find the right words like she was locked away inside her injured body and if he spoke the words she needed it'd be the key to open up whatever was holding her back.

His body gave out before it seemed like he could find the words. Deep in the woods, Daryl pressed his back to the trunk of a tree and sank slowly to the ground, conscious the whole time of the precious burden in his arms. Worth more than anything he'd ever held in his unworthy hands in his entire life.

To his dismay, his inability to find the right thing to say to her just felt like another failure that she didn't deserve, and it was his determined refusal to fail her again that forced him to finally speak.

He didn't know if the words were the right ones, but they were all he had.

"I yelled at you once, for the way you relied on other people to keep you safe. It was an asshole thing to say, but you should know by now that I'm an asshole. Especially when I'm drink. Never did apologize, though, an' I should've." He frowned. "Thing is, I didn't grow up thinkin' you shouldn't rely on anyone. I learned it, cause I had to, from the day I was born. From my Ma, and Pa. But I learned it hardest from Merle, or at least... it was leanin' it with Merle that finally made it stick."

Daryl drew his knees up and adjusted her in his arms, letting her head rest against his chest so her hair spilled down over his shoulder. Looking at her like this he could see that cut across her cheek, dark red with blood, a color he'd been familiar with from far too young an age. "Must've been about 12 or so. Maybe 13. Merle was out of Juvi, but he wasn't ever home. He'd run off by that point, but sometimes he'd call to check in, you know, from a payphone cause ain't nobody had cell phones back then, least, not broke rednecks like us.

His mouth was dry when he swallowed, but Daryl forced himself to keep on talking, his voice low and hoarse in the quiet of the woods. "One time he called, and Dad had been on a bender for somethin' like four days. Beat me every night until my back was raw. Could barely walk. Couldn't even sleep, cause it hurt so bad. Then Merle called. He was goin' on and on about some tail he'd gotten, some chick he had waitin' back in his room, and I was just standin' there, usin' everythin' I had not to cry, cause men don't cry but _Dixons_ don't even know the meanin' of the damn word."

Without thinking about it, his hand brushed lightly over the her head, stroking her hair gently as he took a deep breath. "Took me five minutes to get a word in and when I finally did, I... I asked him to come home. Begged really, by our standards. Dixons ain't supposed to beg, neither, but I did. Told him I needed him here, told him Pa was in a bad place, and he..." Daryl shook his head, hearing the echoes of Merle in his head. "He laughed. He laughed and said 'sure, little brother'. Told me he'd be there when he could manage it. Only he never showed up. Not for months anyway, and by that point I'd already decided that was it. I wasn't ever gonna need anyone again, except myself. I'd convinced myself I was the only person I needed."

The sigh he exhaled was heavy with the weight of what felt like his entire past, every blow to his back, every curse from his father's lips, every laugh that Merle had tossed at him before riding off on his bike to leave him behind. He looked down at her again, his eyes tracing over the curve of her jaw, the flutter of her lashes against her cheek, the scar that marred her perfect skin. "I was wrong." The words fell from his lips in a near whisper, rough and hoarse, half from exhaustion but mostly because it felt easier that way. "You showed me better. Made me realize I don't wanna be alone. I don't wanna be the last man standing, Green, cause that'd mean I'd be standing there by myself. Without you. And I don't want that."

His fingers cupped the back of her head as the other braced against her hip to hold her close, and his voice was a barely audible whisper as he breathed out for the first time since he'd pleaded the words through the phone line to his brother, "_I need you._"

Even though he'd poured the words out of him, he hadn't expected it to work. Daryl didn't have the confidence to believe he'd somehow managed to stumble on the right thing to say. But time and time again, Beth Greene seemed determine to prove him wrong.

First she groaned, faint but audible, enough to have worry and concern furrowing his brow as he looked down at her. "Beth?"

Whatever fog she was in, it seemed to be pulling back. He could only guess at what was going on in her mind as she came out of it, what she might have been remembering when her body suddenly tensed and she cried out in a low, panicked voice, "_Daryl_!"

"Shhh, shhh, I'm right here." He smoothed his hand down her side instinctively, the other turning her head, willing her to open her eyes and look up at him. "Beth, I'm right here. I've got you."

When her eyes fluttered open, that deep endless blue was the best thing he'd ever seen, and he fixed on it, afraid that if he looked away she might disappear again, just fade away before her eyes and he'd wake up to find out this was just a dream and she was gone again, gone for good.

Her voice was soft and as hoarse as his as she breathed out in confusion, "Daryl?"

"Yeah. S'me. I'm here. I've got you." He couldn't seem to stop repeating that, like if he said the words again and again it would make them _always_be true. (_I've got you, I've got you, I've got you._) It would mean that he'd always have her right here, that he wouldn't fail her again, wouldn't _lose_her again.

Her eyes went wide and the words came spilling out of her in a panicked rush, "I... I... I did what you said, I swear!" The pain and worry that creased her face was like a punch to his gut, cause it made him realize that somehow she thought _she'd_ done something wrong. "I was waiting for you, and there were walkers... they were coming, and I killed one, I stabbed it and then... and then... I don't remember." Her voice broke on the word and she looked so scared staring up at him that he had to fight down a sudden fierce urge to storm back to that road and pound those fuckers even more into the ground, not only for daring to touch her, but for simply daring to _frighten_ this girl who had already gone through so damn much and stayed so strong in the face of it all.

"It was a trap," he said roughly, "Whole damn place was a trap. Too good t' be true. They set them walkers on us, and when you were alone, they hit you with their car and took you away. Wasn't your fault, Beth. You did good." His shoulder slumped with the weight of his shame as he breathed out all low and raggedly, "S'my fault. Should've stayed with you, should've been there. Never should've let them get near you."

"_Daryl_." Somehow she managed to put as much weight into his name as she had that 'oh', back in the kitchen, what seemed like years ago somehow now even though it was only a day or two. He felt her words coming like the rising tide, and with them the knowledge that his own would vanish, that yet again he would open his mouth and have nothing to say to her even when he wanted to tell her everything inside of him,

But he was saved, if it could be considered saving anyway, by the sudden pained noise she made as she reached for him with her injured hand. "Don't," he said instantly, shifting his hand to gently cup her arm, suddenly aware that she was still curled in his lap. He had no intention of moving her, though. He had no intention of letting her be any further away from him than this, at the moment, unless she wanted to be of course.

Beth didn't pull away. If anything she only curled closer as she blinked up at him with those big blue eyes, bright with confusion and pain as she bit down on her lip and breathed out shakily, "It _hurts_. My side hurts, too, and my ankle..."

"Must've hit you pretty good with their car. Think your wrist might be broken, and your side's probably bruised too..." It hit him again, the image of it, the thought of those assholes driving their car right into her, _hitting_ her, hurting her. A growl built up all low in his throat and rumbled through his chest until he unexpectedly felt her uninjured hand come to rest on his chest.

"It's okay. I'm gonna be okay, Daryl."

He blinked, and to his surprise he very nearly smiled. Because it was so her, wasn't it? To focus on comforting him, reassuring him, when she was the one laying injured in his lap, she was the one with a cut on her cheek and a broken wrist and a bruised body. He should have been comforting_her_, not the other way around, but it wasn't the first time she'd turned something like this onto it's head. Just like that day back in the prison, when he'd come all full of honor and guilt to tell her about Zach, and she'd flipped it all around and asked _him_ if he was okay.

"You'll be okay," he murmured, focusing on her wrist as he gently brushed his fingers over it and tried to find the fracture. "I'll make damn sure of it."

She was quiet for a long time, her eyes squeezed shut as his fingers felt out her injury. It had to have hurt, but she never once cried out or even whimpered in pain. She was so much stronger than anyone gave her credit for, and he could have kicked himself for how long it had taken him to see it.

"Daryl?" His name on her lips pulled him from his thoughts and had him grunting a question back at her as he tugged his bag close and rummaged through it with one hand, still listening as she went on, "What happened after? If they got me, how did we end up here?"

It seemed for a few minutes like he wasn't going to answer, but the truth was he was just looking for the words again. He took his time, pulling a spare shirt from his bag and settled it on beside him before reaching out, searching the ground and pulling over a long stick that was thankfully nearby and looked to be the right size. As he reached his arms around her (he had no intention of moving her, after all) and used his knife to cut it down to size, he furrowed his brow in thought and finally replied, "Went after you."

Simple and technically accurate, but probably not everything she'd wanted. Beth didn't push though. She never did unless he was being a complete asshole who really, truly needed a swift kick where it hurt. She didn't push, but her silence and the warmth of her eyes on his as she studied his face seemed to help pull the words out of him as he cut off the long sleeve of the shirt and began carefully slicing it into four long strips as best he could with his knife. "Ran after you, after the car. Don't know how long."

He squinted briefly up at the sky and then shrugged as he set the blade down. "More than a day. Almost gave up, but... I couldn't. _Wouldn't_." He shook his head and focused on her injured wrist. First he wrapped it gently in the other part of his shirt to keep her skin from getting irritated by the stick, which he then lay on top of it as a brace. As he began to wrap the thin strips of fabric around her arm to form a makeshift splint, he finally finished, "Found the car on the side of the road, finally. Must've stopped to take out some walkers."

Everything that had happened was far more complex and yet in his mind, it was simple. He had failed. He had run. He had found her. He had saved her. That was it. That was the core of it, anyway. It was what mattered. "I got you out, and I brought you here, and now you're safe." Daryl's hand stilled on her wrist as he looked down into her eyes, his voice gruff but low and firm as he repeated, "You're _safe_."

He didn't realize his hand was still covered in blood until Beth hesitantly reached out with her free hand and brushed her fingers lightly over the back of his, the pads of them coming up red as she breathed out, "Daryl..."

Maybe she didn't want to know, or maybe she already knew. He had a feeling it was the latter. Beth was smart. She knew him better than most anyone in their group did, these days. She could read him sometimes like her eyes were scanning the pages of an open book. She was doing it right now, peering into his eyes, and though he dreaded a glimpse of judgment in her gaze for even a second, he found that there was none there. If anything, all he saw was pride, acceptance, gratefulness... He wasn't sure if any of that was better, it certainly made him feel awkward and unsure, even a bit embarrassed.

He ducked his eyes but only for a moment, only to tuck in the end of the last strip of fabric, and then he was looking up at her again and breathing out lowly, "Don't matter anymore. You're _safe_. S'all that matters, now."

At least, she was safe for now, and he was going to do his damnedest to make sure it stayed that way, because if there was one thing that Daryl Dixon could dedicate his life to now and for once not fuck up, it was gonna be keeping her safe. Keeping her alive. Keeping her right there, with him.

The rest of it, right down to the way she was looking at him now , all lit up by the sun high in the sky and shining down on them through the trees, adding it's own light to the radiance in her eyes, well... That was beyond him to handle, at least at the moment, exhausted as he was. If he thought about it too much, he would lose focus, and he'd be damned if losing focus led to losing her again.

He wasn't gonna be the last man standing all alone. Not anymore. Now, he was gonna be the man fighting to keep her standing right at his side, or he was gonna die trying.

"C'mon," he said roughly, sliding his knife into his sheath and pushing himself to his feet with her still cradled in his arms. "Gonna get dark, soon. Gotta find a place to stay."

She was quiet, but he didn't mind. He was content just to hold her close and have her cheek pressed to his chest as he carried her to whatever safety he could find them for the night.

For now, he just had to stay focused on that. Anything else could wait, at least until tomorrow.

****A/N: Well considering I wrote that all in a couple hours, I hope it came out well! As I said above this is gonna be a chapter fic, but I don't know how long it'll be. I don't think it'll be as long as She's Breathing, I need to take some time to map it out, but I wanted to get this first chapter down before I lost it. I will do my best to update soon, but don't expect daily updates necessarily!**


	2. Chapter 2

_No matter how hard and fast he ran, he couldn't catch her. His lungs were burning, his heart pounding, his feet screaming out in pain. He came to a crossroads and spun in circles, frantic and desperate, searching for any sign of where she'd been taken only to find nothing, nothing, nothing. He slumped to the ground, bow clattering to the pavement, his weary aching bones throbbing as they gave in on each other and dropped him to his knees. She was gone, gone, gone, gone..._

_He had lost her._

_Daryl had never deigned to believe that Beth belonged to him. She was too good, not just for him but maybe even for this shitty, fucked up world. But he had come to not only enjoy her company, but crave it. Without realizing it he had begun to thrive on the hope she was so imbued with that it overflowed and spilled out from within her. He'd come to see that she was everything good left in this world, and that he would do anything he could to keep her in it. Alive and smiling and hopeful. No, he hadn't dared to think that she was his in any way, but he had come to understand that he would willingly be hers. That he would do anything to keep her safe, to keep that light shining in this brutal dark world they lived in now._

_Except he'd failed. He'd lost her, and now she was at the mercy of a man who wanted far more than just to bask in her light. She was lost to the hands of a man who wanted to defile that light, to maybe even snuff it right out. Daryl's head lifted slowly and peered up ahead through the fog that surrounded him. The car appeared through the haze and the man was there, stalking around it like a wolf circled it's prey. From the open car door Daryl saw Beth's feet move, saw her begin to struggle within and cry out for help. But he couldn't move, couldn't do anything but watch from the spot on the ground where he'd given up, the spot where he'd _failed_ her. He watched Gorman reach in and run his hand up over her thigh with a growl that was half-wolf, half-walker. A beast in human form, stalking the streets of a world that had become his hunting ground._

_His gaze was riveted to the scene before him as he was rendered physically incapable of looking away. He watch as the man's head turned towards him. He was missing an eye, and blood dripped down his rugged face, his lips curving into a smile as he groaned out in a monster's rough voice, "Sweet piece, such a sweet piece, gonna enjoy making her mine, mine, mine..."_

_His failure had him trapped, wrapping around him like skeleton arms to hold him in place as he struggled and fought to free himself, forced to watch as Gorman reached into the car and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly no matter how hard she struggled. For one moment their eyes met and he saw the fear and panic in Beth's big blue eyes as blood from the mouth of the monster man dripped from his lips to smear across her pale cheek and all Daryl could do was open his mouth and scream..._

"Beth!" He sat up with a gasp, hands reaching and grasping into the darkness; he had to save her, he had to get her, he had to rescue her! "_Beth_!"

And suddenly, there she was. The darkness in front of him was replaced by her sweet face and her wide eyes. For a few seconds it seemed like she was glowing and radiating light, and then he realized it was the light from the moon above, shining onto her through the crowns of the trees above. "Shhh," she whispered, reaching out without hesitation to gently curl her fingers around his forearm. "Daryl I'm here, I'm right here..."

_Here, here, here_. Still half in a dream he reached for her, fingers curling lightly around her arm, hand brushing up and down as he tried to reassure himself that she was right there in front of him, that she wasn't in the grasp of some monster of a man. "Here?" His exhausted voice cracked on the word.

"Here," she said again, softly. He was dimly aware of her shifting closer to him, allowing his other hand to come up and find her side. Had her been fully conscious he never would have dared, knowing he had no right, but he was still half in his dream and he needed to be sure she was real. "I'm right here. It was just a nightmare, Daryl." Her hand rested over his where he had cupped her hip and she pressed her fingers against his. "See? Real."

Daryl drew in a deep shuddering breath as he stared up at her from under the dark, lanky fringe of his hair. Blue eyes staring back at him; warm, wholesome, worried. _Real._ The warmth of her hand where it rested over his. _Real_. The soft glow of the moon over her pale blonde hair. _Real, real, real._

As reality began to conquer the lingering darkness of his nightmare, Daryl slowly but surely became aware of where they were. He'd carried her in his arms through the woods until his exhausted body had begun to give out at last again. Even with his legs going weak and making him sway, he'd been determined to keep going; so intensely focused on finding her a safe place that he had pushed away all concern for himself.

It had been Beth who had insisted on them stopping in the end, almost climbing out of his arms until he'd come to a halt. He wasn't even sure he remembered setting up the camp, yet he could clearly see the cans from his bag strung around them on string. Had he done it, or had she? His memory was so spotty. He remembered setting her down on her feet, watching her favor her ankle as she moved. He dimly remembered offering him his bag and supplies, since her own were lost now.

As he sat there watching her shift closer, he remembered the way she'd guided him back to a tree, her hands fluttering around him like little birds as she gently nudged him until he was sitting down against the tree. His legs had practically given out beneath him and he'd known there was no way he could get up again, and yet he also remembered groping for his crossbow where it had fallen beside him.

"No," she'd murmured, reaching for it and settling into her own arms instead as she'dsat beside him, gingerly settling her splinted wrist into her lap. "I've got it. I'll take watch, Daryl. You need to rest."

He dimly recalled protesting, insisting something about keeping her safe, only to have her brush the words away in that no-nonsense tone of hers that somehow managed to be brisk and caring at the same time.

"Daryl Dixon, you ran a whole day to catch me," she'd murmured, even as his head had tipped back against the tree. "You deserve to at least get some sleep."

Except he hadn't really slept. He'd closed his eyes and just drifted into nightmares fueled by the ache in his body and the lingering panic of failing her or losing her, and he couldn't imagine he'd managed to sleep very long at all. Every inch of him still felt exhausted. What fitful sleep he had managed had clearly done nothing for him. Daryl groaned, not realizing his fingers were curling against Beth where he held onto her, as if some part of him was desperate to have her closer.

"Okay." Her voice was so soft that it took him a moment to realize she was talking. By the time he managed to focus, she was moving to sit beside him against the tree, pulling a faint groan from his lips when her movements made his hands fall away. "You need to sleep," she murmured as she sat down next to him. "But I'm not gonna let you have anymore nightmares, okay? So you sleep right here."

The way she gestured at her lap had him furrowing his brow in tired confusion, until she went on, "Put your head right here. Use me as a pillow, Daryl." She spoke so gently and softly and sweetly that he found himself moving without even thinking about. If he'd been less exhausted he would have grunted at her or protested, but he didn't have it in him to protest right now. Not when he was weary to his core, not when his mind was still full of the image of blood dripping down her face as she was clutched in the arms of a monster.

"There you go," Beth murmured as she helped guide him to lay on his back and rest his head in her warm, soft lap. "Just like that. I'll keep watch and you sleep, okay?" When he felt her hand gently pat his shoulder, instinct had him reaching for it to tug it over his chest and curl his larger hand around it as he reminded himself again: _Here. Real. Safe._

Above him she understood, the way he was starting to think Beth always understood. "You go to sleep, Daryl. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. Close your eyes... And just rest..."

There was no denying that soft voice. His eyes fluttered shut and though his fingers soon loosened faintly around hers, he didn't let go. He drifted at the edge of sleep, the nightmare images teasing at the edge of his mind only to dissipate at the warmth of her body and the dimly registered sound of her speaking softly over him.

"I'll keep you safe," she was whispering, only faintly audible. "Just like you kept me safe. You know, I used to think you'd be glad to be rid of me at first-" He grunted faintly beneath her and she gave a soft, shushing sound of comfort. "-but eventually, a part of me started to realize you never would. And I _knew_, deep down inside, that you would always come for me, no matter what happened. And you _did_. You _came_ for me, Daryl." Her felt her hand curl slightly so her fingers could graze his palm where he was holding her hand to his chest, and then just as sleep began to finally claim him, he heard her whisper, "You kept me safe. Now it's my turn to do the same for you."

The sun was up when he woke, and he knew he must have slept for hours. Far longer than the four hour shifts they usually took with each other. He was barely thinking about that though, once he realized that his head was still pillowed in her warm lap and he was still clutching her hand to his chest.

For a second he found himself wishing he could just pretend to still be asleep; anything to stay here like this for just a moment longer. But she was looking down into his eyes now and he heard her gently murmur, "Good morning..."

He couldn't pretend anymore. Couldn't linger here, no matter if a tiny part of him wanted to. Daryl pushed up and away from her a little too quickly, his voice rough as he replied, "Shouldn't have let me sleep so long, girl." He regretted the short tone (and the loss of her warmth) the moment he was sitting up, but when he glance back at her with a furrowed brow, he didn't see a hint of sadness or hurt feelings on her face. In fact she was just smiling at him, which was probably what prompted him to add gruffly, "You need your rest more'n I do."

"Don't be silly. _I_ was unconscious for most of a day, you were the one running after me. You needed sleep, and you got it, and that's that. Not like you can take it back now, right?" The way that damn smile curved up her lips had Daryl studying her face for a moment, before she shifted her hands to lift the crossbow into her lap and instantly winced in pain. "_Ow_..."

"You okay?" In an instant he was on his knees beside her and reaching carefully for her wrist. Without a hint of hesitation his fingers ran over it, checking the splint he'd made to be sure it was still tight. It took him a few moments to remember to look up, and the soft expression in her eyes caught him off guard for a moment before she cleared her throat and looked down at her wrist.

"I don't know. It hurts but only when I, you know, use it." There she was, smiling again despite the fact that she had a broken wrist and a sprained ankle and cut across her cheek. She always managed to do that; smile even when things should have been shit.

Then again, were things really shit? Because he knew, now, how much worse they could be. (Sweet piece, my sweet piece, blood dripping onto her face.) He'd stopped that from happening, and he ignored the voice that whispered 'this time', and focused on Beth, here, alive, like he remembered repeating over and over last night until it had felt real.

"Only when y' use it, hm?" He felt the faintest little smile begin to cross his lips as he looked up at her, before he ducked his head down and focused on her wrist. "We need t' find a place to stay. An' some bandages or a wrist brace. Somethin' to wrap this with better than-" He gestured down at the strips of shirt he'd wrapped around the branch on her arm.

"Hey…" Beth tipped her head down until he looked up at her again. "This is pretty darn amazing for something you made out of nothing in the middle of the woods. My Daddy would've been proud."

He saw her breathing hitch for a moment at the mention of her father, and without thinking he found himself gently squeezing her knee for just a moment before he cleared his throat and pulled his hand back.

"So," she said after a moment, breaking the silence, "Is that the plan for today, then? Find a safe place to stay?"

"Mm." He adjusted one of the strips of fabric on her wrist and then stood slowly back up again. "Some place that ain't a trap, this time."

He reached down for her, cupping his hands under her elbows and guiding her to her feet. Their eyes met and he was surprised to see a flash of guilt in her eyes as she steadied herself and said, "I'm sorry, Daryl. I didn't know the place was a trap. I thought… you know, I thought they were just good people. I guess I was wrong…"

"Don't." His fingers curled harder into her arms for just a moment before he caught himself and slowly dropped his hands to his sides. But his eyes stayed fixed on hers as he said lowly, "Don't you go blamin' yourself. You didn't know." He leaned over to pick up his bag and his crossbow, and as he slung them over his shoulder Daryl added, "Could've been right about them being good, anyway."

"Yeah?"

"Well." He nodded his head and scuffed his foot on the ground. "Was about 50/50, I reckon."

He glanced up at her and saw her nibble briefly at her lower lip before she asked, "You still believe that?"

For just a moment when he looked at her, he could see the candlelight across her face, lighting up those big blue eyes and shadowing her cheekbones as she stared across that table at him. So you do think there are still good people. What changed your mind?

He drew in a slow breath and nodded. "Yeah. I do."

'Cause as fucked up as those assholes were who had set that trap and almost got away with Beth, she was still here with him. She was here, and she was good, and though he couldn't bring himself to admit the words out loud… she did give him hope.

"C'mon," He made sure she was steady and then slipped his arm carefully around her back to help her walk as she limped beside him. "Let's go, Greene. And don't think you can slack, just cause your injured."

He was teasing of course, but he knew that she knew, cause there was a playful little smile on her lips as she looked over at him. "I wouldn't dare, Mr. Dixon. I'll keep my eyes peeled, I promise."

They only made it a half minute more in silence before her voice was bubbling around them again, "Why do you think they say that? Keep your eyes peeled, I mean, doesn't that sounds gross?"

A month or so ago he would have snapped at her for being so damn chatty, but now, after the nightmare he'd had and the memory of almost losing her, he was pretty sure he'd never heard much better than the sound of Beth babbling away at his side, seemingly taking his grunts and hums as a whole half of a conversation as they made their way slowly but surely through the woods.

Hearing her voice was just another reminder that she was here, with him. Alive. So no, he didn't mind at all.

****A/N: ****This is a short one (well for me), but I really wanted to post something for this, since I know I've been slower at it than I am with She's Breathing. Next chapter will be a little more involved/have actual things happening, but I thought the scenes in this one were nice and sweet and I was in the mood for that today.**


	3. Chapter 3

It was half a day before they came on something that looked like it could be suitable shelter. Daryl had let his instincts guide them as he always did, trusting them to keep both him and Beth (most importantly Beth) safe. He hadn't said much all morning but that was never a problem for Beth. She filled the silence when she felt the need to, telling him little stories or letting her thoughts ramble, while other times she was just contentedly quiet next to him.

He didn't prefer either over the other really, although there were times when he wanted her to talk, because in silence he could hear her hitching breath as she swallowed what he was sure were pained sounds caused by her ankle or her wrist or the bruises over her body. Each little cut-off breath was just a reminder of the ways he'd failed by letting her get hurt this badly. Even knowing she didn't blame him didn't help at all; she was crazy about things like that, after all, crazy (in his mind anyway) for almost never blaming people for the trouble they caused.

Daryl's gut had led them to a small cabin in the woods. From the outside he could tell it was probably abandoned; there was a hole in the roof where part of it had sagged in from a fallen tree, and one of the windows was smashed. Then again, it looked like most places did these days, so there was no telling whether it was safe or not and Daryl wasn't taking any chances with Beth beside him. He'd spent the last year and a half trying to keep people safe, but none of that came close to how determined he was to keep _Beth_ safe. He'd almost lost her once. He wasn't gonna risk her again.

"You stay behind me," he grunted as they approached the run-down cabin with his crossbow loaded and in his hands.

"I'm not helpless, you know." Beth narrowed her eyes as she looked at him, clutching her knife in her uninjured hand. There was such a contrast in her, in that moment. The sight of her injuries and the scar across her face made guilt and worry swirl in the pit of his stomach and yet there was a light in her eyes, a fierceness that made him believe she could do anything she set her mind to, including this.

It was that fierceness that had him saying, "I know. I need you to have _my_ back, okay Beth?" He hesitated a moment, and then added in a low voice, "I ain't askin' you to stay behind, am I?" He wasn't. He'd considered it, but he couldn't do that to her, not again. It was telling her to run off without him that had almost made him lose her in the first place.

Besides, Daryl wasn't lying. He did need her to have his back, and he trusted her to have it, too, even injured as she was. She'd come a long way from the person she'd been on the farm, though Daryl had no doubt she had been strong in her own way even then. Now she had new ways to use that strength, skills that he'd taught her, or Rick had, or ones she'd picked up herself. Beth must have heard that honesty in his voice because after a moment she relaxed and though that fierceness was still there in her eyes he saw a hint of pride and pleasure at his trust, too. It was almost distracting, or it would have been if he hadn't been so focused on making sure she was safe.

Being cautious, they circled the entire cabin first, checking for signs of people or walkers or anything else. His gaze scanned the ground for signs of footprints, or skimmed the windows and back porch for empty cans or the marks of fortification. Only when he made sure there were no signs on the outside that this place was occupied did Daryl make his way slowly up the stairs with Beth right behind him. It was a constant inner struggle between wanting to keep Beth safe behind him, and trusting her the way she needed (and deserved) to be trusted. He hesitated a moment as he reached the porch of the small cabin, and then nodded his bow towards the left (unbroken) window.

He didn't have to say a word. The two of them had been a team for over a month now and they knew how to read each other's signs. Holding her knife at the ready, Beth made her way slowly but surely towards the window to try and peer inside. He watched her for a moment, gaze lingering on her slight limp and the way she kept her injured wrist tucked against her stomach, before he pushed aside that worry and guilt and made his way to the broken window to the right of the door.

It was dark inside; or dim, anyway, thanks to the sunlight filtering in from outside. He could see the faint shapes of furniture; a sagging couch and a broken end-table. The only movement he could see inside was the shifting of dust-motes in the sunlight that filtered through the cracked glass. And then he stepped closer, and the floorboard beneath his foot creaked and suddenly, the window wasn't so empty anymore.

A walker lurched through the shattered glass, and he had just a moment to think that he was glad he hadn't sent Beth to _this_ window before the walker was reaching through and gripping his shirt in it's rotted hands. It was a man, or it had been once. Now it was a monster, snapping at him with a mouth of half-broken, half-missing teeth, a clotted bloody hole through it's cheek that Daryl instantly recognized as a bullet hole.

_Idiot tried to end his life and missed_. The thought fired through his mind in half a second as he struggled to prevent that same idiot from taking _his_life, too. His crossbow got in the way, tangled up between them and making it impossible to shoot. He used it roughly to try and shove the asshole back, shifting to slam the bow up and under it's neck, using the leverage to shove it back towards the window.

Suddenly there was a flash of movement at his side. He hadn't even heard Beth come up beside him, but then again, he'd been a bit distracted, and now there she was. They moved in unison, anticipating and understanding each other without even realizing it. He used his bow to pin the walk back, twisting his arms to press it's head against the window frame. No sooner had he pinned it then Beth was right there, lifting her knife and slamming the blade right into it's head.

As soon as she pulled it free, the walker slumped to the ground and Beth turned to look at him. _Something_ flashed between them, he felt it in that moment. Adrenaline and relief, yeah, but something else too, something he couldn't quite name but something he'd been feeling now, day after day when he looked at her.

"See?" She wiped the knife clean, and gave him a faint smile. "I've got your back."

_Ain't never doubted it_, he replied in his mind as he looked her over. Out loud of course he only gave a nod, a low 'mm' of response, but he knew she saw it. He knew she understood, because he could see it in her eyes too, right before he turned his attention back to the cabin.

His feeling that the walker they'd just killed was the only resident only intensified, once they got the front door open and made their way slowly inside. The cabin was small, and so the room they entered into seemed to be the main one. There was a couch and an armchair to the right by a fireplace, and in the corner he could see what looked to be the kitchen; if a single counter and an old fridge and an iron stove counted as a kitchen, anyway. It was a one-person sort of home; with just one other door leading to what he guessed was the bedroom; probably not in very good shape considering that the sagging hole in the roof had been right above it.

Everything Daryl saw got pieced together in his mind to form a theory, a story about this place and the walker they'd put down, but he didn't speak them out loud. Not yet. Instead he looked at Beth and asked, "What d'you think?"

He had seen her eyes flicking around, taking in things the same way he had, and he was curious to know what she'd pieced together. "Small place," she remarked as her gaze scanned over the small and dusty furniture, "Probably only enough for one person. Maybe two, but it doesn't look like two people lived here."

When her gaze shifted to the dead walker hanging out the window, he prompted her carefully, "What about him?"

Beth nodded immediately. "He was shot, right? Through the face?"

"Good eye." Daryl's expression showed just a hint of pride, but even a hint was a lot coming from him. "Looks like he shot himself but missed. Must've turned and been here all this time. Prob'ly his place."

"It's not bad, though." Beth turned in a slow circle, scanning the dilapidated little room. "Almost homey."

He snorted and raised his eyebrow at that, and Beth turned to him with a flicker of a grin. "What, it is! We close that bedroom door to keep out the draft from the roof, maybe light a fire in the fireplace… it won't be so bad at all."

"Always seein' the good, ain't you?" He said it roughly, but there was just a tiny hint of a smile lurking at the corners of his lips as he took a few steps further into the cabin. But she was right, it wasn't so bad. There was a roof overhead that was mostly intact, furniture that wasn't broken, a fireplace they could use to keep warm and cook… it was better than being out in the woods sleeping against a tree. Better for her, anyway, and that was what was important.

"You should sit," he remarked, gesturing to the couch. "Rest your ankle and that wrist." But she was shaking her head even before he was done, and of course Daryl should have known she'd protest. She didn't like being useless, she was like him in that way. Right now she was giving him a look that would have been at home on his own face, really. A lift of an eyebrow, a challenge in her eyes as if she were daring him to make her sit down.

Resigned, but with a hint of amusement in his eyes, Daryl went on instead, "Alright. You get that bedroom door closed, an' I'm gonna pull this walker out an' get some wood from outside. Saw a pile, against the side when we were walkin' around."

Beth nodded, picking up the train of his thoughts. "Okay, then I'll get a fire going while you secure the place."

It was habitual with them, almost ritual. They moved like a team in unison as if they'd done this a hundred times before; and maybe they had. He'd lost count of the camps he'd set up with Beth now, sometimes inside and sometimes outside. He'd secure the camp or hunt for food, she'd start up the fire, sometimes help him string up the cans and string or rummage for food tucked away in cabinet if they were inside.

Nothing changed today, although Beth might have taken a little longer to get her part done with the way she was limping back and forth across the room. That twinge of guilt returned when he watched her reach for a piece of wood with her bad hand and then wince before switching to the other. There was nothing he could do for that now except push past it, find a way to help her heal, find a way to make it up to her for the fact that he'd failed her.

Eventually they had the little cabin as secure as they could make it; the bedroom blocked off, a small fire going, cans strung up in front of both entrances and what little canned food they'd found in the cabinet set up on the table.

"Not a… what was it you called it? A red-neck feast?" Beth smiled. "But it's not bad."

She was sitting at the rickety kitchen table in the single chair, while Daryl leaned back against the counter a few feet away. From here the fire cast a dim yellow orange glow across her features, almost making it seem as if she glowed, but her words brought him back to a time when the light had been flickering instead. It seemed so long ago and yet it was only a couple days when they'd been sitting at that table in the funeral home, eating peanut butter and pigs feet while Beth scribbled out a note to the owners, neither of them knowing what was about to happen. What had been_averted_, if barely, he reminded himself as he stood there watching her, raising a spoonful of beans to his mouth before he gave a hum of agreement.

Dinner passed quietly like that, both of them not saying a word as they ate and chewed and swallowed, and eventually they ended up in front of the fire. The quiet lingered, but in the end Daryl was the one who closed the distance between them. Beth was curled up on the floor (the sofa had sagged so much when she'd tried to sit on it that she'd decided the floor was better), wrapped up in a blanket with her leg stretched out in front of her and her injured wrist in her lap.

"Here," he said roughly, crouching down in front of her and dropping some supplies he'd scavenged by his feet. "Got a sheet we can tear into strips. Can use it to bind your wrist up." He pulled the sheet closer and grabbed his knife from it's sheath. With Beth watching him, he dug the tip of the blade into the fabric and dragged it up, tearing a line through the fabric to help rip it into strips. Once he had a collection of them, he knelt right against Beth's side and gently moved her wrist into his lap so he could begin to undo the makeshift brace he'd created yesterday.

"How do you know how to do things like this?" Beth asked curiously as she watched him undo the strips of shirt fabric and gently expose her injured wrist. "I didn't know you knew how, you always let my Daddy-" Her voice hitched for just a moment, the way it always did when she mentioned her family, before she continued, "-care for stuff like that."

It took him a long moment to answer, as he mentally stumbled over the right things to say. With anyone else he never would have even bothered. It wasn't anyone's business, nothing about him was. But with Beth, it had always been different. There was something about her and her sweet silence that made it easier to talk, easier to tell her things without fear of judgement or pity. Which was what had him eventually licking his dry lips and roughly responding, "Lot's of practice. Had a couple breaks, when I was a kid. No insurance, and my Pa… didn't like doctors."

That was an understatement, or at the least something rather vague. Plenty of people hated doctors, he reckoned, for their own reasons. His father's hadn't been good ones; he'd hated doctors because they would instantly know the reasons for his injuries, and report him to child services again. Doctors, hospitals, nurses, they were all forbidden in the Dixon household, and so Daryl had learned from a young age to take care of himself physically the way he did in everything else, too. He'd learned how to treat cigarette burns and lashes, how to set twisted or sprained or broken bones… on both himself and, sometimes, his mother.

After a moment, he cleared his throat and went on, "Then later, got a lot of practice with Merle. He was always gettin' drunk or high an' causing some stupid fight for no reason other'n he wanted to. Can't count how many times he ended up with somethin' sprained or broken."

Beside him, Beth was silent, though he could feel the weight of her eyes on him. She didn't say a word, though, and he was grateful for that. He hadn't expected she would, not really. Beth always seemed to know when to push and when to stay quiet. Removing the stick he had been using as a brace for her wrist revealed the red marks it had left behind on her soft skin from where the bark had irritated it. Without thinking he rubbed his thumb over the marks, letting the rough pad of it trace across her smooth skin.

The brush of his thumb over the underside of her wrist had Beth breathing in sharply, and Daryl instantly looked up at her. "You okay? That hurt?"

"No. No, it doesn't hurt." But she didn't say anything else, she just sat there looking at him with those big, wide eyes as she nibbled on her lower lip, making him wonder… if it hadn't hurt, why had she breathed in like that? He didn't dare wonder if it had something else to do with his touch, after all, despite the fact that the look in her eyes right now was somehow similar to that night a few days ago and the flickering candlelight, and the dawning realization of her 'oh'.

Suddenly, looking into her eyes was almost too much for him and he had to break the gaze and look down, fixing his sight on her wrist as he gingerly moved it to to see how bad the sprain was. Even now he was gentle, stopping the moment she winced or her breath hitched. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

"I-" She started and stopped, swallowing thickly before going on more firmly, "I've broken a bone before. My arm."

"Really?" Daryl couldn't deny he was surprised. Then again, the things he associated broken bones with were never the things he associated with Beth. After a moment he reached over for one of the strips of sheet fabric, and began to wind it tightly around her wrist.

"Yeah, my arm. Not this one, the other one." She paused, but just until he tipped his head up just enough to catch her gaze. It was his way of asking her to go on, and she must have gotten it, because after a second Beth's voice shifted into that softer, slightly dreamier tone she got sometimes when she was remembering something from her past.

"I was up in the loft of the barn, with my brother Shawn. Daddy was in town visiting someone's sick dog, and Mama was a couple miles away at our neighbor's house, so Maggie was in charge of watching us. We were supposed to be doing chores, but Shawn and I had slipped away into the barn to play and Shawn was in one of his daredevil moods. He was _always_ daring me to do something, you know? Daddy used to swear half the trouble I got into was because of Shawn, but then again he didn't know that I was just as bad sometimes." She giggled. "I mean, there was this one time- No, I'm just gonna go off on a tangent. Just believe me when I say that half the trouble Shawn got into was because of me, too."

For a moment he saw the sadness and pain of loss flickering across Beth's face, and though she managed to chase it away, he instinctively shifted his hands to stroke his thumb gently over her wrist. This time he could see the shift in her at the contact, the way she breathed out and the tension eased from the lines of her body as she went on, "Anyway, that day he was daring me to jump down into a pile of hay. Kept calling me a chicken, which wasn't working, and _then_ he said I couldn't do it because I was just a silly, weak girl. He didn't mean it, really. At least, I don't think he did. He just knew that was always a good way to rile me up."

Daryl stayed sitting there silently beside her, continuing the slow and rhythm process of tightly wrapping her wrist as she spoke. He wanted to keep the fabric tight enough to give her support, but not enough to cut off circulation and it required just the right amount of focus. There was just something about listening to her that allowed him to find the concentration he needed, like her voice relaxed him, put him in the sort of state where everything seemed natural and easy.

Beth's head tipped back against the arm of the sofa and from the corner of his eye he saw her turn her head a little to watch him as she continued, "Anyway, I did it. I jumped. And like an idiot, I missed the haystack slightly and landed right on my arm. I just remember this _crack_ and this wave of pain, and all I wanted to do was cry but I kept hearing Shawn's words ringing in my head, about how I was just a silly weak girl, and I didn't want him to be _right_, you know? I didn't want him to think I was weak." She shook her head. "Anyway, Shawn was terrified. He went off and got Maggie, and oh when she came in and found me she was _so mad_ at him. Told him to go fetch Daddy right away and then she knelt next to me on the floor. She never left me, you know. It took Shawn almost 45 mins to get into town and back with Daddy, but Maggie stayed by me the whole time, never left my side. She let me rest my head in her lap and she ran her fingers through my hair and told me all kinds of stories to distract me. About times she'd gotten hurt, or times her friends had. And at one point…"

Beth broke off for a moment with a soft laugh, right as he slowed in his movements and finished off another strip of fabric. "It hurt so bad I was dizzy with it and all I wanted to do was cry, but I couldn't let myself. Maggie must've seen me trembling, biting my lip, trying so damn hard to keep from letting it out. She finally asked me, you know, why I wasn't just letting it out. She was so _furious_ when I told her that Shawn had called me a silly girl, and I didn't want to prove him right. I can't remember what I said, something like how crying makes you weak and then I'd just be a weak, whiny girl, I dunno. But I remember Maggie and how she got so huffy. I remember her holding me carefully and looking down at me and telling me that _everyone_ cried. That it wasn't just girls, and it wasn't a sign of weakness. She said… being able to cry when you needed to, just meant that you were strong enough to admit you were upset, or something like that, I dunno."

He could see it in his mind as he spoke; a little version of Beth, in pain but so damn brave, and her big sister looking over her the way he'd seen Maggie do so many times before. In some part of his mind, her words conjured up another image. The two of them standing in front of that shack, screaming heatedly at each other.

_I ain't afraid of nothing!_  
><em>I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me. And now God forbid you ever let anybody get too close.<em>

His fingers stilled on the strip of fabric for a moment as his mind filled with the memory of him, body shuddering with tears as her arms wrapped around him from behind and she pressed her small face against his back and just let him cry.

_Being able to cry just means you're strong enough to admit you're upset._

As he twined the last strip of fabric around her hand and wrist and tightly tied it off, he looked up to see a grin curving up her lips as she chuckled again and finished, "Anywya, then Maggie told me some story about Shawn crying over stubbing his toe or something, and said the next time he teased me about being a girl or being weak or chicken, to remind him of that."

"Did you?" He spoke without thinking, so caught up in the story that it seemed easy to ask her more about it.

"Didn't need to. I never found out what she said exactly, but I guess Maggie cornered him somewhere and went off on him. Otis told me. He never teased me about being a girl again." For one moment the memory had her radiant with amusement but as he watched, the smile on her lips slowly faded and she breathed out in a near-whisper, "I miss her. I miss all of them you know? Shawn, and Mama, and Daddy. But I miss Maggie most right now… I think because I keep thinking she could be so close and I've got no way of knowing, you know?" She hesitated just a moment, and then asked him, "Do you think she misses me, too?"

"Course she does." Daryl didn't even hesitate. "You're her sister. Two of you, your whole family really… closer than most families I ever knew. Bet she's lookin' for you, too." There had been a time when he never would have answered that question, and he figured Beth knew it. He figured she easily remembered all those times he'd brushed it off, tried to act like there was no chance their family was out there, looking for them, surviving still. She was the one who helped him believe that it was possible they could be out there somewhere alive. She was the one who had made it possible for him to give her that reassurance, when just a couple weeks ago he hadn't believed it himself.

It was worth it to see the soft smile on Beth's lips before she reached down to run her fingers over the makeshift cast he'd created for her. "You did a really good job, Daryl."

"Ain't nothin'," he said gruffly, though he felt the slightest hint of pride at her words. It was hard to feel proud of his skills in stuff like this, considering how and why he'd earned them. He couldn't help remembering all the times he'd bound his own wounds, or his mother's, or later taken care of Merle after the asshole had gotten himself into another drunken brawl. The memories were all mixed up in his mind now with her soft words, and he found himself saying without thinking, "Don't have no good memories like you do, 'bought things like that." He shifted to sit back and drew up his knees, keeping his gaze on the fire as his arms dangled between his legs. "Ain't got no fond memories at all, from before this. Not really." Nothin' tied up in his past was good. Even the stuff with him and Merle, none of it was really pleasant. Life before this had just been… existing. Drifting. Doing whatever Merle wanted.

Beth's gaze was a curious weight on him again, thoughtful and considering. He could see her studying him from the corner of his eyes, and it was a few moments before she replied, "But you've got memories from after, you know? Stories to tell. And you can still make new ones." When his only reply was a faint grunt, Beth went on, "You do. Like, remember that time I got caught in a bear trap like an idiot, and twisted my ankle?"

He grunted again, but looked over at her. "That ain't so funny…"

"It is a little bit, now. I mean, a world full of walking dead and I almost get brought down by a rusty old bear trap?" She gave him a hesitant little smile, but when he just shrugged at her she went on instead, "Okay. How about that time we found a nice little cabin in the woods… a bit rundown, but not so bad. And we lit a fire and sat down in front of it with a nice warm blanket and just sort of talked for a bit and shared stories. That was nice."

"Ain't really a story if it's still happenin', is it?"

"Of course it is." The ease in her voice pulled his eyes back to her and now he was the one studying her. Sometimes she was so damn hopeful he thought he could _see_ it on her. Like she had some kinda damn glow or something. Like those angels on the stained glass windows in a church. He'd never been in one, but he'd seen 'em from the outside, with the light around their heads. Sometimes when she was so hopeful and _good_ like this, it made him think about those angels, glowing and radiant.

Except with her, it was all on the inside, and she made it sound so simple and obvious, like she did right now as she went on, "Besides… this is one of the nicest nights I've had in a bit. It'll make a good memory some day, don't you think?"

'_Course I do._ His mental response was almost immediate. This was a good night, but every night he'd spent with her since the prison- or almost every night- had been good. But he couldn't tell her that. He couldn't tell her that every day he spent to her felt seared into his mind as some of the best days and nights he'd experienced in his long, rough life. He couldn't tell her that she was so many of his good memories now, or that he felt they he kept all of them in this special little place in his mind, one that glowed with warmth, one he didn't feel worthy of venturing into but could never seem to be able to resist.

He couldn't say any of that, so he just nodded and grunted, but after a few moments he added simply, "It ain't bad."

It was the most he could say, but judging by the smile on her lips, it was possible she knew just what he really meant.

****A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating this! I will try to update a little more frequently after this. I think the part about Maggie was the hardest to write, because Beth just loves her sister so much and hasn't realized at this point the disservice that was done to their relationship by the writers. SIGH.**


	4. Chapter 4

When they were outside in the open it was safer to burn a fire during the day when the flickering light of it wouldn't attract as much notice. On the days they had found shelter, Daryl preferred to light the fire at night; when the coverings over the windows would hide the light and the smoke going up the chimney would be nearly invisible against the dark sky. Walkers couldn't spot smoke, as far as he knew anyway, they weren't drawn to it like they were to the bright flicker of flame. But people could, and it was people that Daryl was worried about.

It was people- _bad_ people- that lingered on his mind as he looked down at the girl tucked up beside him. She had talked for a little while longer last night but eventually her exhaustion seemed to have caught up to her. He was almost surprised it had taken so long; she had stayed up all night for him on watch and then followed him through the woods with a twisted ankle and a broken wrist and hadn't once protested. But then maybe it wasn't so surprising. Beth had kept up with him every day since the prison, he had long since learned that she was stronger than most people expected.

He wasn't worried about her being unable to keep up, even injured as she was. What he was worried about was that other people might catch up to them, somehow. People like those men in that cop car, hitting and kidnapping a young girl to bring them back to some unknown location for… well. He might not know where, but he had a pretty good idea about what men like that might do to a girl like her. He knew the ways in which they'd want to hurt her, use her, damage her, break her.

The fire was glowing on her skin as he watched her and the thought entered his mind that she looked almost like an angel right now. Her pale blonde hair seemed gold in the flickering firelight and her skin was like cream or maybe porcelain, flushed faintly pink from the warmth. But his gaze fell on the bruise that purpled her cheek and the healing wound left behind from the car that had struck her, and he felt a stirring of anger and guilt in his stomach. If she was an angel, then she was one that had been marked.

Daryl had never been one for church. No one in the Dixon family was. But he'd had a neighbor when he was younger, an old lady with a collection of crosses on her wall and a stack of bibles on every table, or so it seemed. He'd never have gone over there except she always had cookies or a sandwich to spare and the insistent demands of his empty stomach overcame his dislike of her religious tendencies. When he was hungry, he could put up with all that talk of sin and damnation; he reckoned anyone could. She liked to tell stories sometimes, especially about angels. It had been from her that he'd heard once about how sometimes angels could fall from heaven, banished for their sins.

Rationally he knew that didn't apply to Beth. She was the furthest thing from a sinner, he knew. But men like the ones he'd killed to save her, they were sinners through and through. Sinners who had marked her, sinners who had tried to drag down an angel and tear away her wings only to be stopped at the last minute. By him. Daryl didn't know what that made him, because he was pretty sure he was closer to a sinner than an angel himself. Hell, he didn't even know why his thoughts were so stuck on things he didn't believe in; except he was exhausted and the golden light shining across her soft face was filling his head with all sorts of strange thoughts.

He wasn't much for metaphors and romantic notions, let along for things like heaven and hell and sinners and angels. But he did know one thing. He knew he'd do anything to help her keep that goodness, that _hope_. He'd do anything to stop men like that from hurting her any further, or this world from trying to tear off her wings. He was worthy of that, he knew he was, even if he still didn't quite believe that he could be worthy of closeness with her.

Beth didn't seem to believe the same when it came to their closeness. She had fallen asleep right beside him and as he watched, her head drifted so that her cheek rested warmly on his shoulder. He couldn't seem to help drinking in the sight of her all glowing in the firelight, so peaceful in sleep now. He would keep her safe. He would.

Maybe his gaze on her was too heavy or maybe Beth was perceptive even in her sleep, because after a moment he felt her shift and her eyes fluttered open to look up at him. He had a few seconds to be mesmerized by the still-peaceful expression in her sleepy eyes before she murmured, "S'my turn to watch?"

Daryl shook his head. "No. Your turn to sleep still, Beth. Go back t' sleep, s'ok."

"Okay…" But her eyes didn't close. They stayed settled on him, studying even through her sleepy haze for a long moment, and when she finally blinked Daryl felt her shift a little closer to him. What he did next was all instinct. At the press of her body closer to his, Daryl lifted his arm and gently settled it over her shoulder. As soon as the weight of his arm was resting across her delicate shoulders he felt like some kind of idiot and he instantly and instinctively braced for the negative response. He braced for Beth looking up at him all bewildered and confused, maybe even annoyed. He braced for her to recoil like what he'd done disgusted her, because in that moment he thought only of his own self-doubts and somehow forgot the sight of her above him last night, holding his head so gently in her lap while she slept.

But she didn't pull away. If anything he was pretty sure he saw a faint hint of a smile on her lips as she tucked herself closer, rested her head against his chest, and hesitantly let her arm follow. As her hand came to settle gently on his chest, Daryl felt himself exhale in a slow sigh that was matched by Beth's own. "Don't forget to wake me up," she murmured as her eyes fluttered shut. "I… mean it. You need sleep… too."

"I won't," he murmured back. His fingers lightly splayed against her shoulder, and if his thumb brushed back and forth once or twice, well, it was just settling, right? Either way, he meant it. He'd wake her up.

Although he might let her get an extra hour or two, before he did. She deserved it, after all.

...

If Beth noticed that he'd let her sleep an hour longer than normal, she didn't say anything when he'd woken her up. She'd shifted out from under his arm, and despite his worry that she'd pull away now, she'd just patted her own shoulder and given him a gentle smile as she'd said, "Your turn."

And that was how he'd slept; with his head on Beth Greene's shoulder and the warmth of her body a reminder even in sleep that she was alive. When he woke up three hours later the sun was just coming up over the horizon; or in their case, just beginning to peek through the trees. Right on time, really. He almost always woke with the dawn, if he had the first shift of watch. The sun was the first thing he noticed as his eyes fluttered open and he stretched lightly. The second thing he noticed was that Beth wasn't right beside him anymore, though she couldn't have been gone for long because his side was still warm from where she'd be nestled up against him.

Daryl had just enough time to sit up sharply and reach for his bow, just enough time for a hint of worry to go through him lightning-fast, and then she stepped around from the back of the couch and gave him a smile. "Hey, you're awake. Good morning." Her sharp eyes flicked to the crossbow held tightly in his hands, and after a moment she added carefully, "I went to get the fork, from my bag. I knew you wouldn't want the fire going once the sun came up, so I cooked the can of beans and then-" She crossed around and knelt to the fire, gesturing, "I brought it down to the coals, to keep it warm, see?"

He was grateful that she hadn't mentioned his obvious instinctive worry. Beth was good like that though, she always seemed to know the right thing to say. His body relaxed back as his gaze finally drifted to the fire, where he saw the evidence that she had done just what she said. The fire was banked, just a dull red simmer in the coals that made little smoke but kept the can she'd placed near it warm. Of course they'd had plenty a cold meal and neither of them would have minded another, but it was always nice to have something warm for once.

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement but then, feeling a hint of guilt at his short response he added, "Did good. Smart. Gonna bring that can over here so we can share?"

Soon he had her warmth back at his side as she settled against him without hesitation, cupping the warm can carefully in her hands. He made sure she got the first forkful but after that they shared, passing the utensil back and forth without much mind as they worked through their meal. "So do you think…" Beth worried her lip for a moment, dimpling it with the straight line of her teeth in a way that was mildly distracting to him before she went on, "Do you think we could stay here for a little bit? Just a few days anyway?"

The fork in his mouth was Daryl's excuse to take a few moments to think over the question, although the truth was he knew the answer. Still, he took the time. His gaze moved over the run-down cabin from the closed off door to the fallen-in bedroom to the meager supplies, the dust, the now-covered window where the walker had broken through. He compared it in his mind to that funeral home: clean as if waiting for someone, filled with cabinets full of neatly arranged food. That place had been the kind of place most people would look at and think was safe. It had been the kind of place he should have looked at and known wasn't.

But he had been caught up in her laughter and the light in her eyes and that damn one-eyed dog and he'd slipped. He wouldn't slip again, at least not when it came to keeping her safe.

(A part of him wanted to think he could have both. The distraction of the light in her eyes and the focus on keeping her safe, too, but if it came down to it he knew which he would choose. He'd choose one that would keep her with him, in a heartbeat.)

As he offered the can and the spoon back to her, Daryl replied lowly, "We can stay. For a few days, anyway. Give your ankle time t' heal a bit." His brow furrowed as he looked around again and added, "This place is alright. It ain't a trap, that's for sure."

"You really think the last place was?" She blinked up at him, worry in her eyes.

Daryl shrugged because of course he couldn't be sure. "Maybe." He paused, and then added, "My gut says yeah."

"It's too bad," Beth murmured softly, scooping up a spoonful of beans but pausing to add, "I think it could've been good, if it hadn't been a trap." She sighed. "You know what I wish, though?"

He could think of a hundred things, of course. He wished she'd never been caught at all. He wished the place had been good, or that he'd figured out it was wrong before they had a chance to hurt her. He wished there weren't men like that in this world, drawn to girls like her.

But he wasn't Beth, of course.

"I wish we'd managed to find that dog again, before we got taken away." She looked up at him and shrugged one shoulder. "I just bet it's hungry, that's all. Hungry and lonely. No one should have to feel like that."

No, he wasn't Beth. But she was so very _her_, and though it constantly amazed and amused him, he'd never want to change it.

...

Of course just because they were staying didn't mean they could spend the day doing nothing at all. Once they had finished breakfast they were up and on their feet; including Beth, who insisted on having something to do even though all he wanted was for her to rest her ankle.

"Ain't the whole point of stayin' here t' give that time t' heal?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and looking pointedly down at where she was gingerly standing on only one leg.

"Yes. But that doesn't make me useless!" With her hands on her hips and that stubborn jut to her chin, Daryl knew he's just get a glare from her if he tried to protest. Still she must have seen something in the duck of his head maybe, or the brush of his hand over his hair as he scuffed his foot against the ground, because after a moment she took a careful step towards him and said in a softer voice, "Daryl, I'm not glass, okay? I don't want you treating me like I might break."

When he tilted his head to look up at her from under the dark fringe of his hair, he was surprised to see a plaintiveness in her eyes as she went on, "Everyone's always treated me like glass, you know? Especially since the farm, after Mama…" She trailed off but he'd known what she meant even before she started rubbing her fingers beneath the bracelets she wore on one wrist. "But not you. You never treated me like that, and I don't want you to start now. I'm not just some bruised girl, you know?"

He blinked at her, and instead of her soft tone he heard angry words lashing through his mind like a whip: _I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I've survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. But I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid._

That day and that evening, after the anger had burned out of him like the fumes of the liquor he'd consumed too much of, Daryl had promised himself that he wouldn't keep treating her like that; like she was already dead, like she hadn't proved again and again that she could survive. And he hadn't, not until he'd gotten that stark reminder of just how close to death they _all_ were, including her. He had been promising himself again and again in the last two days that he wouldn't let her get hurt, get broken, get taken away from him and now he added to that promise again. He wouldn't let her get hurt by _him_, either. He wouldn't let her feel like she was just some bruised and fragile almost-dead girl.

Of course it wasn't really in him to apologize or say sorry, at least not with words. The best he could manage was a low hum and a scrub of his hand over the back of his neck before he offered, "Need more cans and string t' hang up around here. An' then maybe we can set up some traps for rabbits."

Her only reply out loud anyway was a soft and simple, "Okay."

It was his way of saying 'sorry', and her way of saying 'thank you' and they both knew it. He could see it in her simple smile and the way the tension and worry eased from her face as she came closer to him and reached for the empty can that was leftover from their breakfast. "I think I saw some fishing line, in one of the drawers. I'll rig up some more cans and then help you with the rabbit snares." A little smile tugged at her lips as she added, "You might have to remind me how to set them, though."

He shrugged. "Reckon you'll remember," Daryl drawled as he leaned down and picked up his crossbow so he could head out and do a walk around their temporary refuge. "Y' got a good memory for things like that." Just as his previous words had been an apology, this was a compliment and one Beth seemed to take easily. A part of him thought that he could get used to this complimenting thing, if it was gonna earn him smiles like that from her.

That was a silly notion too, one he shrugged off as he headed towards the door and opened it, leaving her safely behind him. But while he made his rounds of the cabin, checking for signs of walkers that might have gotten close in the night, some part of his thoughts remained inside with Beth and that soft, sweet little smile.

...

It didn't take him long to check the perimeter, and then to hang up the new string of cans Beth had made across the steps that lead to the porch. With the help of his arm around her back, he got her out and into the woods that surrounded the little cabin. It was a spot he had chosen for rather particular reasons, but instead of telling her that Daryl nodded to the ground instead and asked, "Why here, y'think?"

It took her a second to catch on, a second of her blinking those big damn eyes up at him until her lips parted in a surprised, "Oh, right!" He bit back a soft chuckle as she looked down at the ground and began to study it. Despite the fact that he had been training her for a couple weeks now, it was still fascinating to him to see how her expression changed. She always looked so focused, so purposeful when she set her attention to tracking. Sure she smiled plenty and even joked, but he knew that despite that she was genuinely trying.

He appreciated it, probably more than she knew. Hunting and tracking was something incredibly serious to him, one of the few things in his life he'd not only enjoyed but known he was good at. He'd never in his life taught anyone else to do it, until Beth. Though he'd never have agreed to teach her if he didn't think she had it in her, he couldn't help thinking that she'd proven to be the best choice he could ever have made for his first and only student.

She proved that all over again now as she surveyed the ground for a long moment before replying brightly, "Rabbit tracks! Right?" At his slow 'go on' nod, Beth pointed to a few tracks on the ground, leading towards the roots of a large tree. "And there's a hole there, at the roots of the tree, maybe that's an, ummm…." She trailed off, and the way her nose wrinkled up in thought almost had a smile on his lips. He ducked his head to hide it, but it was faintly there as she went on, "Oh I forgot the word, I'm sorry!"

"Warren," he remarked with another nod. "S'alright. You did real good, seeing the tracks an' where they led. Now let's see if y' remember how to set up a rabbit snare."

It turned out she could, at least with some help, which Daryl didn't at all mind providing even if it was a bit distracting. Each time her hands brushed his as he showed her how to properly loop the line they were using for the snare, he felt this odd warm sensation going through him. It had to be just him, of course. But then he'd look up at her and see this hint of a flush on her cheeks… and for a second he would wonder, before of course he shoved the thoughts away without even allowing them to further form.

Still, he was pretty sure it had never been like this before. He tried to think back to when he'd showed her this the first time, tried to remember if he had been so damn aware of how soft her skin was when their hands touched. (He was pretty sure he hadn't, but he couldn't help wondering how_was_ her skin always so damn soft? He couldn't even remember the last time they'd bathed in something that wasn't a stream or a river… not, of course, that he needed to think about either of them bathing.)

Despite his attempts to keep his thoughts to himself, his focus on what he was feeling (and why) had his brow furrowing faintly as they worked. His hands never faltered, but his distraction must have been clear somehow.

"Hey," Beth murmured, nudging his arm with hers as they finished tying off the trap. "Remember that time we made a rabbit snare in the woods, trying to catch us something for dinner?"

Just like that his pensive mood was broken and a hint of a smile tugged briefly at the corners of his lips. "You tryin' that tellin' a story while it's happenin' thing, again?"

"Well," Beth's hand slid past his again as she followed his guidance and tightened the knot on the snare. Her voice was prim but there was a smile hovering around her lips as she teased back, "It's gonna make a pretty good story, I can already tell."

Despite the shake of his head and the little snort he gave, the truth was Daryl kinda agreed. The truth was he liked the reminder; that he might not have a childhood full of stories the way she did, but he had weeks of them with her now.

So when she quietly and carefully asked, "You don't mind me talking like that, do you?"

He said easily, "Nah. Maybe you're right. Besides… don't mind your stories, past or present." And of course, since that was edging pretty close to nice for his comfort, he added after a moment, "Even if y' do babble a lot sometimes."

"Hey!" This time she nudged him a little more firmly and he looked up to catch the sight of her laughing, mesmerized for a second by the light in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks- and then he saw movement, just past her. In an instant he was reaching out, one hand curling around her arm and the other raising a finger to his lips to ask her for silence which she thankfully gave instantly.

Once her wide-eyed gaze was on him he stretched his arm out and pointed to where a small brown rabbit had appeared from the warren, head raised and nose sniffing the air. Silently (another thing he was proud of) Beth gestured to the snare between them, but Daryl shook his head. Moving as slowly and carefully as he could, he slipped his crossbow off his back and into his hands, but only for a moment. Because without thinking, without hesitating, he found himself offering it up to her instead.

She'd used it before, of course. Tracking through the woods, firing at a few practice targets and once or twice a walker, but never like this. Never when it came down to something as important as food.

The thing was, he didn't have a single doubt that she could do it. He knew she could and that confidence was in his eyes as he slowly handed her his bow. Maybe that was why she only seemed to question him for a moment all wide, doubtful eyes before a hint of pride entered her gaze and she reached out to take the bow from him.

"Nice and quiet," Daryl whispered, barely audible except to Beth who was just inches away from him. He edged even closer as she lifted the crossbow slowly into her arms and settled it there, crooking her arm to rest most of the weight on her uninjured arm before peering down it at the rabbit. "Find your shot," he murmured right by her ear, instinctively letting one hand come to rest on her back. "Breathe in and out, good an' steady… then take the shot on the exhale, when you feel it…"

He could hear her drawing in and exhaling slowly, just as he could feel her back rising and falling beneath his hand. He was so focused on the rise and fall of her breath that he barely realized he was breathing to the same rhythm, that they were both focusing on the rabbit, both thinking almost at the same time: _not yet… not yet… not yet…. __**now**_.

His fingers twitched right when she fired, as if he were releasing the bolt too and his breath caught in anticipation as it cut through the air right for it's target. Both of them inhaled sharply, both of them hesitated- and then exhaled in a rush as the bolt slammed right home in the rabbit's side, right at the heart-lung spot.

Daryl turned when she did, looking right at her, their eyes meeting in excitement and what suddenly felt like a rush of something entirely new and unexpected; heat and electricity, firing between them as their gazes held.

"I did it!" Her voice was all breathy as if with anticipation or as if maybe, just maybe, she was feeling the same unexpected rush that he had.

"Yeah you did." It was all he could say, just like all he could do was stare at her, looking right into those blue eyes, searching them as if he might find an explanation in them for why he was feeling like this. After a moment, Daryl realized he still had his hand resting on her back and that he could feel it rising and falling with her shorter, sharper breaths just as he could feel the warmth of her beneath his palm.

Anticipation weighted the air, but for what? What was he anticipating? Why did he feel something like he had that other night looking into her eyes, hearing her ask him to explain what it was that had changed his mind and made him believe there would good people in the world? There had been a moment there, too, a few seconds of anticipation, a wonderance of 'what next' before the moment had been broken by the clattering of cans.

The moment wasn't being broken by anything right now. Beth was leaning in towards him, and he realized suddenly that he was leaning in towards her, too. Like she were pulling him in with her own gravity some how; it wouldn't surprise him, how long now had he felt like she was the sun and he was in orbit, wanting to soak up those rays but too full of self-doubt and loathing to do so?

Slowly his eyes dropped, fixing on her lips as they parted gently, hearing her exhale in that soft and breathy voice, "_Daryl_..."

His name had no damn right, sounding so good.

_He_ had no damn right, thinking she looked so good right now, leaning towards him like she wanted him to…what?

And then it hit him. _Shit_. Like she wanted him to kiss her.

The thought flashed through his mind in a jolt, just as quickly as the one on it's heels which was rapidly shoved away before he could allow himself to even consider it.

(_I want to kiss her, too._)

He couldn't do that so instead he panicked. He had a feeling he'd regret it later, but in the moment there seemed to be no other option. (There was. But it wasn't a real option because he couldn't, no matter how badly he wanted it, there was no way she wanted it too, even if she was leaning into him like that and looking so soft and sweet, even if Merle's voice was echoing in his mind: _Go for it, baby brother, she wants it, she's aching for it._)

Maybe it was Merle's voice that caused him to panic or maybe it was his own, full of self-doubt. Either way, he reacted. He pulled back almost sharply, with only a quick squeeze of her shoulder and a rough, "Y' did good, kid."

(_Kid? Aw hell, Darylina, whatchu go and do that for? We both know damn well you ain't seein' her as nothin' like a kid right now._)

Biting back the urge to growl at a brother who wasn't even there except in his head, Daryl rose sharply to his feet. "C'mon. Let's bring this back before somethin' smells the blood."

He didn't look at her, just kept his focus on the rabbit at his feet as he pulled the bolt from it's side. So of course he didn't see the look of disappointment in her eyes as she caught herself and rose slowly to her feet.

Maybe it was better that way.

But if it was, then why did he feel so… bereft? Why did he feel like something was suddenly wrong?

****A/N: Sorry again for the delay, I'm trying my best to keep all these updated. I hope you enjoy this and that it isn't too weird! It's very introspective. The next chapter will be more on-the-move again.**


	5. Chapter 5

****A/N: Well I was supposed to work on another fic today but I woke up with this VERY LOUD in my head and just had to get it down. Enjoy the emotional rollercoaster and consider it a make-up for taking so long usually to update this fic!**

Daryl had seriously fucked up. He was aware of that much, anyway. He might not have been smart enough to _stop_ himself from fucking up, but he was sure smart enough to figure out when he'd already done it. He was also clever enough to pinpoint the exact moment he'd fucked up, even without the help of Merle; though the Merle in his head took particular pleasure in pointing it out, anyway.

"_Y' did good, kid."_

That was it, right there. The moment he'd 'screwed the pooch' as Merle had once liked to say. _Kid_. What the fuck had he been thinking?

The truth was he knew exactly what he'd been thinking, and it was that she'd looked nothing like a kid right then, leaning towards him with those soft pink lips parted and a flush to her cheeks. She'd looked like a woman, and one who wanted to kiss _him_, and the truth was he'd been, well…

Once, he'd shouted at her that he wasn't scared of nothin', and those words still rang in his mind despite knowing they weren't true. He was scared of things, sure enough. He was scared of losing the people he'd actually come to care for. He was scared of losing _Beth_. And that damn fear was all tied up in a fear of fucking things up with her, but the irony was that in the process of trying _not_ to screw things up he'd gone and done it anyway.

The mood between them had been different ever since them. Quiet, was the best way to describe it. They'd been staying in the hunter's cabin for two days now, and it had just been… quiet. Or rather, Beth had been quiet, which was especially noticeable considering how rarely she got like that. It wasn't like she ignored him completely; he reckoned she was too nice for that and besides, it wasn't like he'd been a complete ass like that one time drunk on moonshine. She still slept next to him every night, but her head no longer fell to his shoulder and though a part of him ached for it, she never made that little movement that invited him to put his arm around her. She spoke when needed, but he couldn't help noticing the absence of her stories and the way she'd sometimes hum to herself as they worked.

He also didn't fail to notice that he missed things like that, which really only compounded the guilt he was feeling over putting this wedge or gulf or whatever it was between them.

It didn't do any good for his self doubts. Two days of calling himself an idiot and listening to Merle's voice in his head doing the same. Two days of trying to figure out how to bridge that gap, two days of wishing he just fucking knew how to make a damn apology. Two days of coming up with plans only to discard them as being as idiotic as his original remark had been.

On the third day, Beth suggested they leave the cabin. He'd woken up to her packing up their bag with purpose and determination, and it wasn't like he was gonna say no to her, even if a part of him wanted to stay right there where she was at least safe. Because even if that safety came with what felt like a slowly growing chasm between them, it was still safety. It was still a place where he could protect her, a place where she could let her ankle and wrist continue to heal.

But he wasn't gonna say no, so he followed. He let her lead the way because it was the least he could do and because frankly, he was still feeling like a goddamn idiot. Following after her slightly-limping frame as she kept ahead of him, only looking back occasionally and never saying much, Daryl called himself an idiot over and over again.

Although midway through the day when he focused a little less on her silence and a little more on their surroundings, he did feel the need to point out, "Headin' towards those railway tracks again."

She looked over her shoulder at him and shrugged her shoulder in a way that was so similar to his own gestures that he might have smiled, if it wasn't so unlike _her_ to be curt in that way. Instead, he just grunted. If she wanted to head towards the tracks, then why not. They'd avoided them ever since those first days after the prison when they'd stumbled upon all those blood-stained bodies and he, like an idiot yet again, had just stood there watching that hopeful girl fall to pieces sobbing over not just the bodies of the children in front of her but, he figured, the idea that everyone they cared for might be just like this now.

Avoiding the train-tracks had been intentional on his part, a way of steering her from future pain… or maybe steering both of them. Because maybe a part of him had known that the tracks might lead them to their family, but not in the way they wanted. Because he didn't think either of them could bear rounding the corner and finding Michonne or Rick or Glenn or Beth's sister, torn up bloody and lying across the tracks.

But now Beth was heading right towards them and if it hadn't been intentional before (she was good at tracking, but she didn't have the same sense of direction as him yet) it was intentional now. She was striding purposefully in the direction she'd set and Daryl found himself wondering why it was she was suddenly so damn focused on getting to them.

(_You know why, baby brother. Y' pushed her away like a goddamn idiot and now your girl is tryin' to find better company. Tired of hangin' around your idiot ass, I reckon. Ain't surprisin', is it?_)

He shoved Merle's voice away as hard as he could, but damn it if the thoughts didn't linger. Because it made sense, didn't it? Beth had never given up on their family, or him, but he'd sort of given up on her in a way. Or at least, he'd betrayed her trust in him by treating her the way he damn well knew she didn't want to be treated.

_Kid._

Fucking ridiculous how one goddamn word could fuck things up so bad.

The thought had him frowning even deeper. He had slowed without realizing it until he saw movement and glanced up to catch sight of Beth looking over her shoulder at him. _Now's your chance. Open your mouth, say somethin', y' damned idiot._ But he didn't. He just looked at her slightly gape-mouthed, shook his head, and moved to catch up. He didn't know what to say. He never fucking did and now, he was just gonna have to live with it.

Beth strode through the woods with single-minded purpose, the way she always did when she set her mind to things. She had no idea what Daryl was thinking about behind her, but then, that man was a goddamn mystery to her most days. Which wasn't so bad, except when he did something that sent her reeling, like the other day.

"_Y' did good, kid."_

_Kid_. Like she was 12 or something, like she was _Carl_. It would have been bad enough regardless, but to have it come in the moment it had… Even now three days later Beth kept churning it over in her mind. That moment after she'd hit the rabbit and everything had been all… _electric_. Like there was actual electricity crackling through her veins as she'd looked into Daryl's eyes and sensed their breathing at the same rhythm, sensed both of them leaning in closer as their eyes met and heat flashed between them, like that night in the funeral home only even more intense and then…

"_Y' did good, kid."_ Like a splash of cold water right over her. Ever since then, nothing had felt right. Beth knew she was putting distance between them, but it was the other thing she could think to do. Because being called a 'kid' by him in that moment hurt, but she knew it could hurt even more if she allowed herself to feel those things for him any longer. If she allowed herself to think about what she felt, allowed them to deepen, only to have him push her away again.

She wasn't gonna let herself fall for a man who thought of her as a goddamn kid. Even if it was Daryl; even if it was the one person who trusted her as much as she trusted him, the one person who seemed to believe in her. Or had, anyway.

It was probably no surprise she'd woken up that morning with Maggie in her mind. Upset and unable to stop churning over that moment in her mind, Beth had longed for comfort, for familiarity… for the sister she'd once curled up with to gossip about boys or gone to for advice about anything. She missed her home, she missed her family, she missed being able to do something about that longing.

She couldn't go home, she couldn't see her Mama or her Daddy or her big brother Shawn… but there was Maggie. Somewhere out there in this mess of a forest full of shambling walkers, was her sister. And Beth knew it. So she'd set out with that single-minded focus to find her, hoping her gut would guide her the way Daryl's seemed to guide him, and when he told her she was heading towards the railway tracks, Beth knew in an instant that it had.

Of course she had no way of knowing what Daryl was thinking, but if she had she'd have corrected him in a heartbeat, regardless of whether she was upset with him. She wasn't trying to replace him. She wasn't trying to find people who were better company than him because the truth was in the end, Beth would never change who she'd ended up with after the prison. She just longed for her sister, for someone who understood her (or had, before all this anyway). She just needed her family.

(She didn't want to admit to herself that the person she really wanted to talk to, the person she really needed, was Daryl. Because what were you supposed to do when the person you needed was the person you were hurt by or angry at?)

It was the afternoon by the time they reached the train tracks and Beth didn't hesitate to steer them right alongside them, despite the looks from Daryl at her side. She just curled her fingers tighter around the strap of her bag and strode forward purposefully. She didn't think about the looks he was giving her, or the expression on his face like he maybe felt hurt and guilty all at the same time. She definitely didn't think about the way he kept opening and closing his mouth like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.

(Because there was a part of her that ached to help him. A part of her that knew he needed that help, a part that knew, logically, that he was bad at getting across what he was feeling. The problem was that was too close to her knowledge that it was that same issue of his that was probably all tied up in him calling her 'kid' the other day. It still stung too much for Beth to be open to considering that maybe he hadn't fully meant it.)

It was late afternoon when she saw the sign up ahead. Dimly she was aware of the map hung on it, a series of criss-crossing lines with a star in the center, pinned to the wooden frame. But that wasn't what she really saw. What leapt out of her, bright red and urgent, was one word at first:_Maggie_.

Beth's heart leaped right into her throat and her feet moved to follow. Ignoring everything around her, she moved towards the sign at a jog and then a race, her heart pounding to the rhythm of her feet as that word leaped out at her again and again: _Maggie, Maggie, Maggie_. Her sister was alive, her sister was close, her sister, her sister, her sister…

It wasn't until she got a few feet away that the other words registered. Trains were a thing of the past, but standing there on those railroad tracks Beth felt like she'd been hit by one head-on as those words slammed into her mind:

_Glenn, go to Terminus. -Maggie._

Glenn.

Glenn, go to Terminus.

_Maggie_.

Her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides and there was a roaring in her ears and she couldn't stop searching the sign, couldn't stop looking for the addition that should have been there, couldn't stop trying to find the four letters of her own name.

But it wasn't there. There was no plea to her to follow, no hope that she might see this sign and come for her sister.

And then, she understood why. She _got it_. Maggie hadn't written any signs for her; she'd written them for her husband and him alone. Because of course Maggie knew that Glenn would get out. Of course she knew he'd survive and come after her and find her.

But Beth? Beth was just another fragile girl slitting her wrists because she missed her Mama. Beth was porcelain, Beth was breakable, Beth was just another dead girl.

Beth was just a goddamn _kid_.

She only dimly registered Daryl coming up beside her, and his low and rough murmuring of her name failed to truly cut through the haze in her mind, through the buzz in her ears and the seeming-throb of those words in her head.

_Glenn, go to Terminus. -Maggie._

Beth drew in a breath so ragged it caught in her throat, and through the haze she realized her eyes were burning and stinging. She was on the brink of crying, like a baby, like a…

Like a _kid_.

With a whimper she barely even heard, Beth spun sharply away from the sign. Her shoulder banged into Daryl's side but she didn't feel it or the jolt to her injured wrist that followed. She barely even saw him. Through the blur in her eyes she stared only at the woods beyond and tried to find that single-minded focus again as she strode determinedly into them.

Daryl followed after her into the woods, unaware that there was a desperation in his voice as he called out low and urgently, "_Beth_. Beth!"

But she kept on pushing forward, shoving aside anything that got away and fuck if he couldn't blame her. He was furious, himself. He'd seen the words on that damn sign as she'd been running towards them and ever since they'd first registered the anger had been buzzing in his veins.

Maggie _Fucking_ Greene.

How could she have a sister as good as Beth, and not even care? How could she give up so damn easily on a sister who had never once given up on her? Beth had mentioned her sister almost every day since they'd escaped the prison. He'd heard so many stories about Maggie, he'd listened more than once to Beth's confidence that her sister was out there, looking for her.

Fuck, he'd reassured her himself, back at that damn cabin.

_Do you think she misses me?  
>Course she does. You're her sister.<em>

He hadn't even hesitated then and now he was furious, because of course Maggie had to go and prove him wrong. Or maybe in a way she'd just proved the old him right. Wasn't no point in having faith in people because people were shit, right? People gave up on you, people left you behind, people didn't care.

But that wasn't true, was it? Not entirely. Because Beth cared. Beth had never once given up on her sister _or_ on him, even after he'd screamed at her that day, throwing his words like knives at every tender spot on her he'd ever noticed and filed away: _Never relied on anyone for protection before. Never sung out in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun. Like everything was a big game. I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention._

Even after that she hadn't given up on him, just like she'd never stopped believing that their family was out there somewhere, alive and looking for her and him the way she was looking for them.

Well she was right about the first part anyway. They were alive, or they had been. But like him, apparently, Maggie Greene was a fucking idiot. Only she wasn't here to have to live with the mess she'd made. Daryl was.

Somehow, Daryl Dixon was all Beth had, and despite knowing in some dark part of him that she deserved far better, he remembered his promise back at the cabin when she'd been lit like an angel by that golden light. He'd promised to protect her. He'd promised not to let her be hurt.

_Time to man up, baby brother. Time to put on your big boy britches and get shit done._.

"_Beth_." This time he said her name forcefully, closing the gap between them in one big stride and reaching to curl his fingers around her arm to turn her towards him.

"Don't!" She spun on him, hair wild around her face and eyes so damn wide and bright, almost shimmering with what he knew after a moment had to be tears. "Don't! I'm fine, okay? I'm _fine_, Daryl."

"No, y' ain't." The words came roughly out of him, catching in his throat before he forced them free only to falter, not sure what else to say. His eyes roved over her, taking in the tightness of her lips and the pain in her eyes and fuck, he just wished he knew what the hell to _say_.

She reminded him of that day he'd thrown his barbs at her, the day he'd dragged her outside and shouted at her, calling her… what had it been?_Dumb college bitch._

Yeah, she looked like that now, except there was more pain than anger in her eyes as she lashed out, "I ain't gonna cry, if that's what you're worried about. I'm fine, okay? I ain't gonna break down and cry like some- like some-" She dragged in a hitching breath and spat out at him, "Like some damn _kid_."

There it was. His own words hurled back at him, sinking into him like they must have sunk right into her, sharp as a knife. It hurt like hell, but in the process it must've cut something loose inside him, sliced through one of the many walls he kept up and wrapped around him. Because without thinking he growled back, "You ain't a kid, Beth. You _ain't_." He took a step towards her and stopped, his voice softer as he added, "And I never should have called you that, just 'cause I was scared."

There was something else in those big wide eyes as she looked up at him now, something like amazement or confusion, maybe, mixed in with the hurt and the anger. And as he watched Beth trembled, like something was coming undone inside of her, too. When her lips finally parted, all she breathed out was a broken and pained whisper, "_Maggie_..."

"I know." He took a step towards her, and then another, even as she turned her back to him as if to run away. But she didn't run, not this time. She stood there with her back to him and her whole body trembling, and he did the only thing he could think of. He came up behind her just like she had to him once, and his arms slipped around her waist as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to her back. "I know," he whispered. "Just let it out. It's okay, Beth. I…" He swallowed hard, but with one last shudder of the girl in his arms, Daryl forced himself to finish, "I got you."

And he did. He held her tightly as she let go in his arms, trembling and shaking between sobs just like he had when she'd finally broken down some of his walls and got him to let it out. Now she was the one breaking down and he was the one holding her up, anchoring her just like she had for him all those weeks ago. And as he stood there in the middle of the woods with Beth Greene so damn small and trembling in his arms, her hands hanging in front of her and her back pressed to his broad chest, her own words from just a few nights ago echoed in his mind.

So as she drew in another ragged breath in between sobs, Daryl turned his head so his lips were near to her ear and he whispered her words right back to her: "Being able to cry just means you're strong enough t' admit you're upset. Remember? You're strong, Beth, you are. An' if your sister don't know it, then she's an idiot. But I know it, and _you_ know it. Don't you go forgettin' that. You're strong, Beth. So you cry, if you need to. I ain't goin' nowhere."

And he wouldn't. He didn't. He held her back against him and let her cry it out until her sobs turned to whimpers and the whimpers just faded to little ragged breaths that nonetheless tugged at something inside of him, something aching, something all tied up in his urge to keep her safe and never let her get hurt again.

"C'mon," he murmured, simple and easy once she was calm. "Sun is gonna set, soon. Should find somethin' for the night."

She turned without pulling away, and though he warred with himself Daryl didn't draw his arms back. He left them around her for just a moment, his hands shifting to rest on her hips as she looked up at him and whispered, "Thanks."

"Don't have t' thank me, girl." Awkward and unsure, his hands began to slip away slowly but reluctantly, as if he thought he should let go but didn't quite want to. "Meant everythin' I said. You ain't a kid, an' I never should've called you one."

She looked for a moment like there was something right on the tip of her tongue that she wanted to ask, only she bit it back at the last moment and just gave him a tremulous little hint of a smile. Nothing much, but so much better for the ache in his heart at how she'd looked all teary-eyed and red-face. And when she stood up straighter with her injured wrist tucked close to her stomach and said firmly, "So we gotta find shelter, right?" He felt a stirring of pride at the determination and strength in his voice.

Beth was strong. She was stronger than anyone else he knew and the evidence was there right now as she drew herself up from the depths of a broken heart and focused on the task at hand.

There wasn't anyone else he'd want to have at his side and now, as far as he was concerned, the others could go screw themselves. _Especially_Maggie Greene.

But he wasn't gonna say that to Beth, not now anyway. Not when it was all so fresh and fragile for her still. He just gave her a nod and with a hand on her back, guided them both deeper into the woods towards the direction where his gut said they might find shelter for the night.

Daryl was still worried for her, without a doubt… but there was no denying he felt a hint of relief when he realized that she was right by his side and he couldn't feel that yawning chasm of distance between them anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

****A/N: I am really happy with this chapter guys, so I hope you are too. Also I hope you don't mind that part of this turned into a sort of history lesson somehow. I get a little carried away when it comes to researching things. I just wanted to try something different! You'll see. Enjoy!**

The sun was just setting and painting a golden light across the tops of the trees when Beth brought him to a stop with a faint little whistle. Turning to look at her with a raise of his eyebrow, Daryl saw Beth nod and then point to the distance where he now saw a roof, breaking through the line of the trees.

"Good spottin'," he murmured low and roughly, darting a glance over at her just in time to spot the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It wasn't much but it was something, considering how quiet she'd been the last hour since they'd spotted that sign by the railroad tracks. They'd been heading steadily away from them again either instinctively or purposefully, Daryl didn't know. It didn't really matter. Right now his only goal was to get them somewhere safe and to do better for Beth than her own damn sister was.

He figured if she wanted to head away from the tracks for now, then that was what they'd do. It wasn't like he could blame her for it. Hell, getting away from those damn tracks sounded pretty good to him, too.

And it had led them here to what he thought, as they broke through the woods and into an overgrown clearing, was just an old wooden building. It looked to be about two stories, the wooden boards worn with age and the roof patchy in spots where the shingles had fallen off. The entire thing was half-covered in thick green clinging vines of kudzu. Given how it tended to encompass everything whenever it took root, he was almost surprised that any of the building was exposed, but he could see at least half of it; including the chimney that stuck up from the roof.

"Huh." Daryl reached a hand up and wiped it across his brow to brush away the bit of sweat that dampened it as he stood at the edge of the woods with his legs firmly braced. Just another building, although a much older one than they'd encountered before.

But it was Beth again who pointed to the side of the building and said, "Look. You see that? Like a wheel…" It took him a moment but then he spotted it; a massive wooden wheel half-covered in bracken and kudzu, mounted against the side of the building.

"Water wheel," he remarked, cocking his head and squinting his eyes as he studied the building again through fresh eyes. "Might've been some kinda mill, once. Would've been a stream here, or somethin'. Could've dried up or gotten diverted.."

"I wonder what kinda mill it was," Beth mused, sounding almost curious in a way that pulled Daryl's gaze to her again. For the first time since the railroad tracks she seemed to be perking up a bit with interest, perhaps at the chance to explore something new. It was a change from the low spirits she had sunk into and Daryl fully intended to seize on that change.

"C'mon," he said, pulling his crossbow off his back and taking a moment to draw it in preparation before shouldering it, just in case. "Let's go find out."

She even smiled at him. It was tiny, sure, but it was still there, and even a tiny smile from Beth was something near radiant. Holding the image of that little smile in his mind, Daryl led the way forward with Beth at his side. He moved slowly, conscious still of her injured ankle and the broken wrist she held carefully to her stomach while she tightly gripped her knife in her other hand. So far he didn't see a single worrying sign around them, though he knew that didn't mean anything and he stayed cautious and on edge, ready for whatever they might find. Soon they reached the side of the water wheel and Daryl hummed as he crouched down beside it.

"Still a bit of water here. More like a brook now…" He looked around at the ground, peering off into the distance before letting his gaze track back again to study the depression in the ground and the rocks that lines the bottom of it. "Must've been bigger, once. A stream, even a river. Enough to run this wheel an' power the mill."

Beth crouched slowly beside him and it was she who reached out to touch the water, running her fingers through it before lifting her damp fingers with a soft smile. "But there's water still. That's always good."

With a nod and a faint hint of a smile at her optimism, Daryl reached into his bag and pulled out their two water bottles; figuring he might as well fill them while they had the chance. Beth took one and he the other and once the plastic was filled to the brim with water he rose slowly to his feet and brought his bow with him. "C'mon, let's get a look inside."

From what he could tell there was only one entrance to the place, which in his mind was both good and bad. Good because it was easily defensible but bad because a back door might provide a quick exit when needed. Thankfully his sharp gaze had already picked out a good-sized window at the back that might work in a pinch, something he filed away in his mind to check as they approached the front door of the mill.

The old wooden door was slightly warped but still sturdy, echoing with a loud thump as Beth banged on it, hesitated, and then pulled it open and darted aside to leave Daryl to cover it. With the ease of having done this what felt like a hundred times before, they cleared the doorway and moved slowly inside. Daryl kept Beth right behind him, resisting the urge to reach back with a hand and keep her tucked safely against his back. Despite his desire to keep her safe, she had proved again and again that she could handle herself. He only had to remember the cabin they'd last cleared together to know that.

Hell, he really only had to remember an hour ago at those railroad tracks, the way she'd broken down only to bring herself back together again. She was strong and they both knew it.

The dim light from the open door and the few windows that dotted the walls revealed a large and open space. Almost every inch of it seemed to be wood, from the natural hardwood floors to the walls and the beams holding up the upper level, to the ceiling above them. At least, from what he could see in the dim darkness. In a smooth motion Daryl slipped his flashlight free from his bag and offered it to Beth, trusting her to light the way so he could keep his hands on his bow.

Holding it gingerly in her injured and braced wrist, she clicked the light on and began to guide it over the room to light up the interior even further. The round beam of light glided over wooden beams and barrels and crates to the glint of lanterns that hung on the wall and a pile of what looked like sacks in one far corner, before coming to settle on a large round structure in the center. Nothing moved but the dust motes flickering through the beam of light until Beth steadied it and exclaimed, "Oh! I know what this is, I think!"

Only her caution seemed to keep her from rushing towards it, judging by the way she took a step and paused, darting a look at him to make sure he was at her side before she moved slowly forward. The closer they got, the more her light illuminated the structure that dominated the large and open room. The large circular wooden base contained what looked to be a round stone set into it, above which a wooden chute stretched down from the ceiling. Daryl glanced at Beth, his eyebrows raised in question as she ran her fingers lightly over the stone with a smile.

"It's an old Grist Mill!" When her exclamation only got that same look, Beth went on, "Like a flour mill, or a corn mill. This is where they'd grind grain into flour, see?" She pointed up to the chute, where it disappeared into the ceiling. "Up on the second floor, they'd pour the grain into a bin or something, and it would come down the chute here where the grindstone would grind it. The wheel outside must have powered the grindstone!" She turned around, her face all lit up with curiosity as she went on, "There's probably another floor beneath us, a basement. That's where the flour would go once it had been ground up, _and_ that's where the big gears would be, you know, to make the grindstone turn."

He studied her for a moment, unaware that a little smile had quirked up at the corner of his lips. "How d'you know all this, girl?"

"Oh." She blushed as she turned back to him with a shrug of her shoulder. "I really loved history class in school, you know? We took a field trip once to an old grist mill, it was a little bigger than this but it was still functioning." She shrugged again, a little lift of one shoulder before she gave him a small smile. "I just like stuff like this. How they used to do things before electricity and all." Suddenly she gave a little laugh, more a single 'hah' than the usual giggles he had become used to."Guess that's kinda funny now, since we're almost back to that in a way. No electricity and all."

His hum and a nod were simple but when he came up behind her he found himself briefly placing his hand on her lower back and saying softly, "Ain't never gone on a field trip to a place like this." He shrugged. "Never much went on field trips at all. My Pa would never sign the forms. Ma did, but then…" Daryl's voice trailed off as he glanced down to clear his throat instead. He didn't have to go on, though. Beth knew. She knew more about him than pretty much anyone, now.

Just as she knew how to handle his mood right now, nudging her arm gently into his as she joked, "Well I can't promise I'd be the best tour guide, but we can have a field trip right now, Mr. Dixon."

With the way she was looking up at him, a smile on her lips and the crease of pain and worry over her sister's actions banished for the moment, there was no way he could say no even if he wanted to. Which he didn't, not one bit. Instead he just gestured to the room with a 'go on' wave of his hand and a hint of a little smirk.

To his amusement she stepped back and spread both arms, gesturing to the grindstone in the center of the room as she intoned, "And here we have the grindstone of the mill. There are actually _two_ stones positioned within the frame, one on the bottom which stays still and one on top which turns to grind the grain." That was about as far as Beth got before she giggled, the amused little laughter spilling out of her lips and lighting up her face as she glanced up at him. Her normal voice returned as she asked, "How was my tour guide voice, good?"

"Not bad," he murmured in reply, though the truth was he'd never really been on any kinda tour before, so he didn't have much to judge by. It had been enough to amuse them both, though admittedly Daryl didn't mind when she switched back to her normal voice and gestured down to the other end of the room.

"The stairs should be over here… one going down to the basement and one up to the second floor, I think." She took a few cautious steps in that direction with him beside her. "We might have more luck upstairs but we should probably check downstairs just in case?"

Neither of them really liked the idea of descending into the dark basement, but it wasn't the first time they'd done something similar. Their talking and the sounds of their footsteps hadn't conjured anything up yet, so he was hopeful that the basement would prove empty. Of course, that hopefulness didn't diminish his caution as he lead the way slowly down the stairs that Beth had found. His crossbow was held up in front of him as Beth followed, the beam of her flashlight playing over his shoulder as he took slow and careful steps down the creaky wooden stairs.

As soon as they reached the bottom Beth began to play the beam of the flashlight across the room, sweeping it slowly to break the gloom of the cool basement. Numerous cobwebs and spiderwebs glinted in the beam of light, strung from the stone foundation falls to the machinery that filled the room, the largest of which was a massive gear mounted beneath the ceiling. Once her flashlight had revealed not a single walker in sight, Beth slipped around him and into the room, training the beam of light onto the gear.

"See?" She trailed the flashlight away from the gear to the wall beside it and said, "The water would turn the wheel outside, which would then turn the small gear attached to this bit here, that would in turn make this big gear turn-" She played the beam up again at the massive wheel again and went on, "-and _that_ turns the grindstone on top! And then when the grain would get grinded up, it would come down the shaft here!" A turn of her hand lit up the chute that extended down from the ceiling above them, before she turned to him with a grin. "Isn't that cool?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, s'_cool_, I guess."

"Well I think it is," Beth said brightly, moving around until she found a pile of old sacks and reached down to pick one up. They were empty but still sturdy, despite the fact that he figured this mill had been out of use for a long, long time. "You know, if we ever really wanna survive eventually… I mean, as a group-" She faltered for a moment, pain flashing across her face in an echo of the pain he had seen back at the railroad tracks. He knew she had to remembering her sister, knew she had to be thinking of their family and how perhaps none of them even believed that she had survived. He took a step towards her, thinking he needed to say something even if he wasn't sure what, but then she blinked a few times and the pain was shuttered as she went on in a falsely bright tone, "-we're gonna have to relearn how to do things like this. Grinding grain and making bread, you know? Lord, I miss bread. Don't you?"

He figured anyone else would've pushed her to talk about what was clearly bothering her, but Daryl wasn't anyone else. He was never the prying type and hell, if anyone understood not wanting to talk about things that upset you, it was him. Plus after all this time, he knew Beth. She'd talk about it when she was ready and not a moment sooner.

"Well, good thing we got you, then," he remarked easily, running his gaze over the large gear one more time before it strayed back to the slim figure standing a few feet away. Her face was lit up in the faint glow of the flashlight and she seemed oblivious to the cobweb now tangled in her hair. Something about her complete ease with the dirt and dust made him give a hint of a smile as he went on, "Y'know, tour guide and expert on mills and all, right?"

It must've been the right thing to say, cause he was sure the smile she gave him was brighter than the beam of her flashlight before she cleared her throat and said, "Speaking of me being your tour guide, we still have a whole floor to see to. C'mon then, Mr. Dixon."

* * *

><p>The third floor was just as empty as the other two and Daryl found himself breathing a sigh of relief as soon as they determined that. These days you never knew what you might find lurking inside any building and he was grateful that at least this time they hadn't had to fight to claim shelter for the night.<p>

"Hold on," he said when he saw Beth about to continue her little tour. "Lemme go secure the door downstairs, an' then you can go on." Wanting her to know he wasn't bored or nothing, he added after a moment in a playful tone, "_Miss Greene_."

Only when he saw a hint of a smile again did he turn and make his way back downstairs to secure the front door. He was pleased to see it had a bolt on it to lock it from inside, but he still took the time to drag over an old table and prop it in front just in case. After checking to make sure the back window opened (it did) and that it could serve as an emergency escape (an easy drop of only a couple feet), he headed back upstairs to the top floor where Beth was waiting.

"So," Beth started right up again as soon as Daryl gave her a nod to let her know it was all secure. "See, this bin here is where they'd pour the grain in! And it'd go down the chute to the grindstone below. They probably stored the grain up here in those bins. Probably empty now." She gestured to the wall and gave another little shrug and a soft laugh. "This floor isn't as exciting as the other two were, sorry..."

"Ain't got nothin' to be sorry for," he drawled, coming up around behind her. His hand snaked out to tug lightly on the braid that was drawn back into her ponytail, and Daryl smirked as she spun to look at him with a soft 'hey'. Moving past her, he added, "Best tour I ever had."

"You said you'd never _had_ a tour before," Beth teased right back as she followed after him, moving softly over the worn wooden floorboards.

"Yeah well even if I'd had I reckon this'd be the best, 'cause of you." He wasn't sure he'd meant to add the last, and something about it made the tips of his ears burn before he turned away and gestured to the end of the room. "Looks like the workers spent some time here," he remarked, pointed to a small table and chairs, an ancient wood stove, and what looked to be a very old camp bed with a mattress he was sure had to be unsleepable by now.

"Or the owner," Beth remarked, drifting past him to run her hands over the end of the bed frame. Though she frowned as the rusty metal flaked off under her fingers, she went on easily, "A lot of times it was a community of farmers that supported a mill. You know like how… how there were all those farms around ours, back home? They'd have a whole community of 'em that all grew wheat and grain and one mill. The miller would mill all the grain for them and take his own cut, or whatever. Lots of towns and villages had their own too, I think."

"Didn't see no town or village 'round here," Daryl remarked as he came up beside the iron stove. "Reckon it might be farm land all around here?"

"Maybe." Beth shrugged one delicate shoulder and turned to watch him as he crouched down by the stove and tried to carefully open it.

"Could be good. Might be a good area to stay for a little bit if we want. We can make runs to the farms for supplies." He looked up at her for a long moment, meeting her blue eyes until he saw that sadness shift in them. Carefully he added, "But we don't have to decide yet." His attention turned back to the stove and he hummed. "This might still work though. Reckon we could get some wood from downstairs and give it a try, maybe have a warm meal for tonight. If you want."

At her nod he rose to her feet and gave a nod of his own, "Alright then. Now that your tour is over, Miss Greene, let's get a better look at this place and see what we can find."

* * *

><p>By the time they returned back to the top floor of the mill, they'd rummaged up a little bit more than just wood for the fire. That had been the first and easiest find, with Daryl simply breaking apart and old wooden crate and stacking up the slats by the stairs to carry up when they returned. It had been Beth who had spotted the other crates tucked into a corner down in the basement, which seemed to be filled with stuff abandoned when the mill had closed down, or perhaps left throughout the years by whoever was maintaining the place.<p>

One of the finds had been several old hardcover books hidden away at the bottom of a box. Beth had pulled them out rather triumphantly, dust smeared across her cheek and a grin on her lips as she held them up. "Look at these! They're from the 1930s, according to these dates. Maybe whoever used to own this place or handle the upkeep…" She aimed the flashlight down at them, pursed her lips, and blew the dust off the cover of the top one. From the bright yellow jacket of the book she read: "The Maltese Falcon, oh, that's a classic!" Flipping to the covers of the other two books she went on, "The Postman Always Rings Twice... and… Red Harvest. Well I haven't heard of that last one, but the first two are definitely classics."

"Classics in what?" Daryl had raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall and looked down at her, fighting the urge to brush the dust from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"Detective novels, you know, like noir or whatever, I can't remember what they called them. Maggie had a boyfriend in high school once who was_obsessed_ with these…" She had started off brightly, but the moment she mentioned her sister Daryl could see her falter, the delight fading from her expression as her shoulders slumped slightly.

Crouching down beside her, Daryl had tried his best to redirect her attention. "Y'mean like those old black and white movies? Men with big hats and cigarettes and gangsters?"

Beth looked up at him with a tentative smile. "Yeah and there's almost always a dame involved. You know, some leggy blonde or something."

"Kinda like you." Yet again he spoke without thinking, and his ears might have burned once more, but it had been worth it for the smile on her lips.

"I'm _so_ not leggy," she'd remarked as she climbed to her feet. But she was still smiling as she clutched the books to her chest and headed back to the stairs and as Daryl followed behind her his gaze drifted briefly down and he couldn't help thinking she seemed pretty leggy to him, anyway.

Not that he was paying too much attention to her legs, or anything.

* * *

><p>Back upstairs they'd covered the few small windows in some of the spare sacks, and then Daryl had gotten a small fire going in the wood stove, only adding to it when he was sure the stove was still intact and wouldn't burn the place down or anything. Their second to last can of food was set on the stove to cook, reminding Daryl they'd definitely need to go out hunting tomorrow for more. For tonight however, they were settled in nice and safe and snug.<p>

Or at least that was how it felt after eating, when Beth dragged the old mattress off the camp bed and over in front of the stove to sit cross-legged on it before gesturing for him to join her. With the way she lit by the faint glow from the stove, he only hesitated a moment before moving to joined her, sitting beside her with his legs crossed and his crossbow beside him.

"I was thinking we could read a bit," Beth murmured, holding up one of the books she'd found earlier. "I just think you'd like these, is all. Crime solving and stuff, it's kinda cool. We could read aloud maybe?"

His brow furrowed and he pulled his gaze away to look into the fire so he could avoid looking at her. "You don't want me readin' for you."

Perplexed, she peered up at him and asked, "Why not?"

"Ain't too good at it." Daryl shrugged one shoulder and tried to deflect, "You're the one with the nice voice." That was true of course, but it was really only part of it.

Beth didn't seem inclined to push; she almost never did. Her voice was soft and casual as she replied, "I used to get that in school, too. My teachers always made me read longer than anyone else because I guess they liked my voice, or how I read."

He could see that. She had a good voice, soft and warm, almost melodic. He bet she never stumbled over words she didn't quite know, never mispronounced shit and had the whole class laughing at her and calling her a hick. Daryl's brow furrowed even further as he stared firmly into the flickering light of the stove and remarked lowly, "Weren't never much good at school. Teachers never called on me."

Beth was quiet for a few long moments, as if she couldn't decide what to say or perhaps whether or not to say it. It was only when he glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow that she asked hesitantly, "How far did you get, in school? What year, I mean?"

It was another of those moments. The ones where if it had been anyone else he'd have blown them off, told them to fuck off even or just looked away without answering. But it was Beth and he'd told her so much already that it didn't seem like much of a big deal to meet her eyes and admit lowly, "Tenth year, I guess. But barely. Dropped out when I was sixteen, never looked back."

He wasn't sure what he'd expected her to say instead, but her smile caught him off guard, just as her reply did when she said, "Me too. I only got to sophomore year, tenth grade and then you know… end of the world and all, no more buses running."

And just as simple as that, she'd managed to find the knot of his worry and cut right through it. The funny thing was, he'd never even thought of it like that. There'd been a time where he'd seen her as this little girl with a perfect life; the family he'd never had, the home he'd never had. There were times around everyone, including her, where he felt like the idiot he was pretty sure a lot of them thought he was, too. And yet now she'd pointed it out that they had pretty much the same level of education… and though he was sure she'd done far better in school than he ever had, it was still oddly equalizing in a way.

Something about that must have shown on his face because she was giving him a soft smile and leaning in to brush her arm against his once more as she added playfully, "It's okay, I don't need high school anymore. I've got something even better."

"Oh yeah?" He couldn't imagine what that was.

"Yep!" She lifted the book into her lap and opened it before darting another little smile up at him. "Daryl Dixon University. I don't think I've graduated yet, but I'm getting there. And I think I'm a pretty good student, most times…"

His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, but when he finally spoke his voice was softer and more serious, and without thinking he found himself reaching out to tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ear as he murmured, "Best student I ever had." The tips of his ears burned and he drew his hand back, but Beth didn't pull away. She just smiled and leaned into him a bit before looking down into her lap once more.

Soon, the melodious sound of her voice filled the air, and a little while later when she started to sound worn out, Daryl only hesitated a moment before sliding the book into his lap to take over reading in her stead.

* * *

><p>About halfway through the book both of them were worn out, and not just from going back and forth and sharing the reading. It had been a long and trying day; from the tension between them, to the revelation at the railroad tracks and everything that had followed. Daryl wasn't at all surprised to see Beth drifting beside, growing steadily sleepier until her head had come to lightly rest on his shoulder.<p>

He'd thought she might have fallen asleep by the time he closed the book and set it aside, but when he looked at her she was staring into the fire, eyes unblinking. He sensed a shift in her and it was yet another thing that he could wait out patiently, giving her the time and quiet she needed to voice it if she wanted to.

It was just a couple minutes later that she murmured softly, "I always knew she was out there. I just knew, in my gut, that she was still alive. Didn't I tell you, again and again?" She had of course, but he didn't think she wanted an actual response to that. So he stayed silent, and sure enough she went on, "But I always imagined it differently. I always imagined she'd be looking for me the way I was for her. Sometimes I even thought that she'd be the one to find us, you know? That she'd drag Glenn through hell and high water to find me. The only family she had left." She blinked just once, and sighed. "I should've known better."

The last had him raising an eyebrow, though still he stayed quiet and after a moment she filled his silence again with her low, tense voice. "Maggie just… she has a one-track mind. She'll focus on one thing and just… forget everything else. Sometimes it was me, but not always." A sad smile tightened across her full lips as her voice grew distant. "We used to have girl's nights when we were younger. We'd spend the night in each other's rooms or we'd take over the living room and watch a romantic comedy and sneak ice cream out of the freezer when Daddy was asleep. Only sometimes as we got older, Maggie would forget. She'd have a date, usually, and she'd forget to even tell me, and when she came back she'd always act like it was nothin' that she forgot, or that a boy had asked her out and she'd said yes without even thinking about me. But I'd always forgive her because she was my sister, you know?"

If her eyes were blinking a little more rapidly now, or if they looked brighter with unshed tears, Daryl didn't comment aloud. But after a moment he did shift to slide one arm gently around her shoulder until she hummed and leaned into him. "I guess I thought something like this wouldn't be like that because it was so much bigger than forgetting a girl's night. Maybe it was different... 'cause I dunno if she forgot me like she used to. I think she just… thought Glenn was a better chance. I think she figured if anyone was gonna get out and survive and find her, it was him. And he's her husband, so of course she'd want to find him, but I think… I think she thought he was out there… and I wasn't."

It was her mention of Glenn being a better chance that made him want to speak up, to make some denial, but Beth beat him to it. Her voice was low and almost rough in it's conviction as she breathed out, "She was wrong. I've got just as good a chance as Glenn ever had, and I always did. She should have believed in me, but she didn't. She was _wrong_." She turned to look up at him and his heart wrenched at the look of pain and anguish in her big blue eyes. He'd have taken a swing at anyone who ever dared to make Beth Greene look like that. If Maggie had been here, he'd have done it in a heartbeat; verbally at the very least, if not physically.

But she wasn't here, Beth was. Beth with the pain in her eyes and the hint of a quiver to her lower lip as she looked up at him, trying so damn hard to be strong and believe in herself. "She damn well was wrong," he responded in a gruff firm voice as his free hand came around to cup her chin and hold her gaze to his. "She was. Look at you. Sprained ankle, broken wrist, and you're still trekking through the forest like you were born to do it. Better than your sister ever was, trust me. Had enough runs with her and her clodhopper feet snapping twigs ever two steps."

The laugh she gave was higher than it should have been, bubbling like the tears did in her eyes but he could tell it was a good laugh. The kind of laugh she'd needed. Because when it faded, she blinked back her tears and he saw some of the tension ease from her body. "Maybe I'm like this place, you know. Like grain, getting turned into flour. I was already strong but getting out of the prison and being with you, it's like it ground me up even finer. Made me stronger." In the faint glow from the stove fire, he studied her face as she talked, unconsciously shifting his hand to brush his thumb over the line of her jaw.

At the touch of the pad of his thumb over her soft skin Beth sighed and tilted her head against his hand and lord if that didn't feel nice. Like there was something unfurling inside of him again, something warm and content. He felt almost like a cat curled up in a warm patch of sunlight, only for him the light shone from a sweet little blonde with eyes like a piece of sky. He felt like he could soak up that feeling all night if she'd let him, and she seemed to have no desire to pull away. In fact she just stayed there, eyes slitted half-shut, almost like a cat herself enjoying his touch as he continued to gently stroke his thumb over her jaw and across the soft apple of her cheek until she breathed out a content sigh.

"You know what you were saying earlier?" Her voice was soft and hazy and sweet, and he was glad to hear that the tightness had faded from it. "'About staying here for a few days, making runs to check out the farms nearby?"

"Mhm." Daryl hummed a reply as he watched her, mesmerized by how at ease she seemed to feel in his presence.

"I think we should do that." Her eyes opened slowly to fix on him and he could see that comfort in her gaze, too; all full of trust and safety and affection… and then just a tiny, tiny hint of doubt as she added, "If… if you want to. Unless you think we should follow the tracks and try to find them."

He took just a moment to think it over but he didn't really need to. Not with her looking at him like that all full of every single thing he felt being like this with her, too. Even closer somehow than that night at the funeral home because tonight he didn't just have a silent stare to give her in return; he had words as well. "I think we should stay here if that's what you want. S'you and me now, ain't it?" She nodded slowly, and he gave her a hint of a smile. "Then it's you and me. As long as you're happy, I am." Daryl hesitated just another moment and then couldn't resist the urge to ask, "You happy staying here?"

"I am," she breathed out the words and lord if she wasn't looking up at him the same way she had that night in the flickering candlelight. Except her eyes had been all full of understanding that had been dawning then and now, in the light of the stove, seemed settled and _known_ instead. "I'm happy staying here, with you."

"Then so am I." It was that simple. Just as simple as it was to draw her close and guide her head to rest against his chest. Just as simple as it was to lean down until his chin rested on top of her head and she breathed out a sigh against his shirt.

"Daryl?"

He let his chin lightly brush over her head (like a cat's affectionate rub) before settling again, "Mm."

"I'm glad it's just you and me."

She said it so honestly and simply that he knew she meant it. So as his fingers curled into her ponytail and lightly toyed with that little braid, Daryl just hummed and murmured back simply as well, "Me too."

****A/N: Hope you liked it! The 'something different' was the grist mill, by the way. I got tired of having them stumble onto random cabins, haha. Anyway I did my best to be accurate though it might not be 100% correct, I hope it's somewhat close. Favorites and reviews are always appreciated and thank you all again for continuing to read this! (See, I'm getting better about updating this one more often!)**


	7. Chapter 7

The fire in the woodstove had burned down to ashes by the time they woke the next morning. Not wanting the smoke of a new fire to be seen from their chimney, they had eaten their last can of food cold, passing it back and forth between them until it was empty. After a trip around the side of the building to relieve themselves away from the small stream of water, Daryl and Beth had reassembled and chosen a direction to head in for the day's search.

"I figure the farms would have been spread out all around it," Beth remarked as she shaded her eyes against the early sun, "So there should be a few of them around here in each direction."

One of the directions was clear of trees and gave them a view of a distant stretch of fields that looked promising, so for today they'd headed in that direction. With the morning sunlight shining down on them, the fields they trecked through almost looked as if they were gilded gold and glowing in the light. A rather poetic thought for Daryl, but he couldn't seem to help it. He tried to keep his eyes on their surroundings as they moved side-by-side through the grass, but his gaze kept straying to Beth. The sun worked it's magic on her too, making her blonde hair shine like a crown of gold or perhaps a halo. That same brightness reflected in her eyes each time she looked at him; the blue reminding him of the clear skies above but even prettier thanks to her soft happy smile.

Beth must have seen the same beauty, at least in the fields that surrounded them. As they walked he could hear her singing, her sweet voice just loud enough for him to hear the words of the song: _Can I take it to a morning where the fields are painted gold, and the trees are filled with memories, of the feelings never told?_ Her voice trailed off when she caught him watching her, but the smile on her lips was just as sweet as her voice, at least in his mind.

He was glad to see the improvement in her mood today, so much better than she had been in the last few days from their disagreement to the revelation about her sister. She almost seemed to be in a _good_ mood today, and it seemed to be rubbing off on him, as if just being in the presence of her soft singing and little smiles lifted some of his tension away.

"So what should we look for, you know, besides food?" Beth glanced over at him and flashed him another little smile. "I'm making a mental shopping list. I feel like it's been ages since we've done that. Since the prison, I guess…" When his only reply was a nod and a hum of agreement, Beth went on easily, "We should find some blankets. That mattress wasn't bad but if we're gonna stay for a bit…"

She darted another glance at him, waiting until he gave another 'mm' and a nod in reply. Their conversation from last night stood; if she wanted to stay then that was what they'd do. That was that, and Beth seemed to get it. With a smile, she continued, "And you know what I really want to find? Books." Now her smile was almost shy as she peered over at him and went on, "It was nice, reading with you last night. I don't know how long those three books will last us, but I thought maybe we could find a couple others, I dunno. Did you like the book last night?"

"Weren't bad." His response was short, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips that he knew Beth could see. Each day he thought she got better and better at reading him, more so than any of the people he had lived with since the world had changed. Sometimes he thought despite all their time together, they had looked at him still and saw nothing but a silent, grumpy hunter. Not Beth. Come to think of it, it had been a long time since she had looked at him like that. He wondered if she ever even had, or if those piercing and knowing big blue eyes had always been able to see what other's hadn't.

She was doing it now anyway, smiling over at him through her fringe of hair before she focused her gaze back ahead. When she fell silent for a few moments, Daryl took advantage of the quiet to study her a bit in return. She was walking better than she had been; her limp was far less pronounced and he imagined that in a couple days she would barely feel it. Her wrist on the other hand would take far longer to heal. It was fractured rather than sprained or twisted, and all thanks to those assholes hitting her with their car.

Every time he looked at her wrist he felt guilt and anger like twin beasts clawing at his gut. Anger was a wild thing, growling in his chest and rearing back as if to claw it's way free from his ribs and launch again at those who had dared to hurt her. His guilt was darker and stealthier, coiling up around his heart and reminding him that he'd failed her by letting her get taken in the first place. He'd failed her by sending her away without him and for that he'd very nearly lost her, and the makeshift brace on her wrist was a big glaring reminder of that.

"Daryl? Hey. Daryl."

It took him a moment to register Beth's voice, and even when he did his only response was to blink at her and then ask gruffly, "What?"

At some point she'd drifted back to walk beside him and now she looked over with a hesitant and tentative smile. "You were glaring at my arm for a good couple minutes. I don't think that'll make it heal faster, you know."

His 'hum' of acknowledgement belied the thoughts churning within him. All that guilt and anger, fueled by a lifetime of self doubts and the knowledge that bad things seemed to be just about all he was entitled to in life, all he ever seemed to get.

Well, almost.

Because there was Beth, and she was far from a bad thing. She was in so many ways the exact opposite of the majority of his life. Light against the darkness, hope set against bleakness, goodness shining out against a background of endless bad. That night in the funeral home he had seen that so starkly and clearly in the moments when she had asked him what had changed his mind. Thoughts that had been filtering through the back of his mind for days had suddenly broken free of the haze to become clear, like puzzle pieces fitting themselves together with a crisp 'click' by her soft, sweet hand.

She hadn't just changed his mind though. She had changed his life, in more than one way, and she kept doing it. It was like each day that puzzle that was his mind kept expanding beyond what he'd imagined, as if each moment with her pressed another piece into place around the edges, or even right at the center over his heart.

Merle would have never let him hear the end of it for thinking poetic bullshit like that, but then again Merle never would have understood Beth. He probably never would have looked at her as anything but a piece of tail… or maybe not. Maybe that was underestimating Beth and her ability to get under people's skins and into their minds (and hearts).

He'd never know, either way. Because Merle was gone. Everyone was gone, at least for the time being. Right now it was just the two of them.

Just her, looking over at him all sweet and concerned and him, walking along in silence unable to put into words all the things he was feeling- all the things he had been feeling for a good long while now.

"Just thinkin'." His reply was belated, but what was that saying? Better late than never. Maybe it was true sometimes anyway. Though lately he had begun to think about how late _could_ mean never, in a world where the next day could always be your last and you might not make it to see the sun rise again.

Against the thoughts in his mind and the curious look on Beth's face, he pointed ahead with his crossbow to a structure breaking the line of the fields in the distance. "Looks like y'were right. Comin' up on something soon. Little bit longer, we'll be able t' see what it is…"

* * *

><p>What it was, unsurprisingly, was a farm house. Daryl hadn't been the only one to come to a stop seeing it for the first time. The white house was simple and small, two stories but with a small front porch rather than a wrap-a-round. Still, he knew without even needing to look at Beth that both their minds had gone back to the same place. To another white farmhouse set in the midst of a series of large fields just like this one, once upon a time. Even the barn was similar, the same shape as the one he remembered but all red instead… and of course, not burned down.<p>

"You okay?" The question came out of his mouth without him even thinking about it, and Daryl dropped his head and scuffed his foot on the ground as soon as the words were free. If it'd been him and someone had asked him that, he'd probably just glare at them for daring to even wonder.

Then again, it was well established that Beth rarely reacted like he might. In fact her reaction seemed to be almost the opposite of that. He caught a glimpse of her upturned lips and even felt her briefly lean towards him so that their arms brushed. For the few seconds of contact he felt acutely aware of the oddest of sensations, like a faint tingle going up his arm that made his breath catch for just a moment. Twined through it all was the same thought he always had when Beth and him were close; that knowledge that if it were anyone else he'd have pulled away sharply but with Beth, the touch never bothered him. If anything he found himself wanting to lean towards her as she drew away, just to prolong it a few seconds more if he could.

"C'mon," he said instead, clearing his throat. "Let's start with the house, then we can check th' barn, just in case."

Beth might have been quiet but if there were memories plaguing her right now they didn't distract her from the job at hand. She was just as focused as ever when they teamed up, moving side-by-side around the perimeter of the house before closing in on the front door. In practiced unison they made it through the front door, their routine knocking on the door summoning no walkers to greet them. Yet, anyway.

He could see Beth's gaze lingering as they made their way through the living room and down the hallway to the kitchen, but to his pride her training held true. She didn't veer off despite what he was sure were numerous temptations. They both knew that properly clearing a house was often the difference between life and death and this home was no different. That became clear as they reached the second floor and were greeted by the sounds of scrabbling hands against a locked door and the familiar scent of death clinging to the air around them.

"Leave it? Or clear it?" Beth's gaze sought his out as she added, "Might be something good inside there."

"Might not be." Daryl's gaze drifted over her, following a now well-worn map that lead from the bruised scar on her cheek to the bandage on her wrist and the ankle that she was trying not to put too much weight on. "Let's not risk it. They're secure in there. Prob'ly a bedroom or somethin', ain't much we need in there anyway."

"Daryl…" He turned and started to head down the hallway, but her voice followed him. "Daryl." Soft as it was, he heard the slapping of rotted hands against the door grow louder, and worry furrowed his brow even as a hint of annoyance flashed into his eyes as he turned towards her.

But as soon as he turned he saw that look in her eyes, a hint of worry and self doubt and he swiped his hand roughly through his hair as he growled out, "It ain't that, okay?"

"Ain't what? I didn't even get to say-"

He shook his head as if to shake away her words. "Don't need to." He exhaled in a sigh and crossed the distance between them. His fingers curled hesitantly around her arm and through the faint electricity of that touch he looked into her eyes and gruffly went on, "It ain't that I think you can't handle it. I know y' can. Ain't I told you that before?" His tongue felt thick in his mouth the way it always did when he tried to say more than just one or two words. It was like his damn mouth knew how dense his brain was, knew he weren't the kinda man that could speak at all half the time, let alone eloquently. Maybe his mouth knew it, and the thickening of his throat and the heaviness of his tongue was it's way of telling him to stop trying.

(Or maybe it was self-doubt, that tight ball of it in his chest that had grown heavier with each passing year of his life.)

Whatever it was, this time he pushed past it, fueled by the look in her eyes and the feeling of her slender but muscled arm beneath his fingers. "_Neither_ of us should risk it. S'only the two of us now. Ain't gonna risk it becoming one, let alone zero. Us… living… s'more important than anythin' we could find in that room. Okay?"

A quiet fell between them. It only lasted a moment but to him it seemed to stretch, to hang in the air between them, strung up between the rhythm of their breaths as they inhaled and exhaled almost together.

But then Beth smiled, soft and simple as her nod, and her hand came up to curl around his opposite arm and squeeze. "Okay."

The heaviness in the air vanished as soon as she lowered her arm and moved past him down the hallway, setting her gaze on another open door as she casually remarked, "But I do wanna check out some of these bedrooms. Maybe we'll get lucky, and they'll have clothes that fit…"

Gone was the thickness in his throat and tongue, too, but something else remained. A hint of that electricity still fizzled just faintly in his veins, baffling him even as he followed behind the sway of her ponytail against her back.

(Almost like a horse might follow after a carrot, dangling by a string.)

* * *

><p>Beth had gotten her wish when it came to the clothing, at least. The room that had been locked looked like it had been the master bedroom, and if the others had once been the rooms of the owner's children, they had moved out long before the world had ended. No clothes in sight, though they had found a blanket on the bed and a stack of paperbacks on the small bookshelf. After slipping a couple books into his bag it had been Beth who had suggested they check the small attic, and up under the eaves of the roof she'd found several boxes packed away, each filled with old clothes all tightly sealed in plastic.<p>

Neither of them cared that the clothes were old or the slightest bit musky; hell, anything was preferable to the layer of grime and dirt they wore these days. Daryl was fine not changing till later, but Beth had wanted to put new clothes on right away and he didn't begrudge her that. He had kept his back to her while she pulled off her cardigan and yellow polo shirt to tug on a brown tank top and a green-and-brown flannel over, the buttons left un-done for now. It wasn't the sunshine yellow he was used to- the bright color he associated with her- but when she'd held it up for approval and softly murmured about how maybe it would blend in better in the woods, he hadn't been able to protest. All he could do was nod in proud agreement. She was learning fast, and well.

There was one other thing he didn't fail to notice though, and that was the way she'd balled up the yellow polo and the grey cardigan after she was done. Sometimes they saved their clothes to wash later if they could, because it was always good to have spares. Even here, with Beth grabbing a couple shirts for both of them and folding them into his bag, he might have suggested she keep it just in case. At least the cardigan, thick and warm as it was.

But then he saw her standing there with them balled up in her hands, looking distantly down at them until he realized that her hands were trembling. That her whole body in fact was faintly shivering and that the distance in her eyes was more than just memory. His stomach clenched and for a moment he could see her back in that police car as a cop- a man once sworn to protect- had run his hands down over her hip and leg; more a hungry beast than a hero in a uniform.

He could understand her not wanting anything to do with those clothes. Of course he could.

So he cautiously crossed the creaking floorboards of the attic towards her, and gently took them from her hands as if by holding them he could protect her from the memories. Or maybe there was a better way. It popped into his mind in a sizzle and a flash and without hesitating he breathed out, "We can burn 'em, if you want."

(_We should go inside.  
>We should burn it down.<em>)

The sound of his voice pulled her eyes up to him as she drew her trembling empty hands to her chest instead. Once, twice she blinked before the haze cleared from her eyes and she focused back on him. "No…" Her voice sounded dry and she broke off to lick her lips and clear her throat before she went on, "No… stupid to risk it. They're just clothes, right?"

"Nothing is just anything, these days." He said it without thinking about it, not even realizing the depth of his words let alone the poetry in them. He was far too focused on the poetry of Beth's soft little smile in response and the way it made the lines of tension fade almost instantly from her face. "There's a fireplace downstairs. Ain't nothin' so dramatic, but we ain't been drinkin' so maybe we're not on our game."

She held his gaze for a long moment and he felt it again, the moment stretched heavy and important between them, rising and falling with their shared breaths. And then just as he was about to ask 'well?', she looked right into his eyes and breathed out bravely, "We should burn them."

His low chuckle loosened the weight of the air even as the memory of his words- (_we're gonna need more booze_)- echoed between them. He gave a slow nod of agreement, and if their eyes held a few beats longer or she seemed to lean into the space between them and part her lips in a way that drew his eyes down, well… It was just the moment or something, at least in Daryl's mind.

A moment he didn't know what else to do with but clear his throat and nod back to the door. "C'mon. We'll check th' kitchen first, just in case th' smoke draws anyone here. By the time they come, we'll be out at the barn an' then gone."

* * *

><p>They made relatively quick work on the kitchen. It wasn't a huge find, but like many farmers the owners of this house must have grown and canned their own food, so there was a small supply they could take back to the mill for the night. He even found a backpack tucked away in one of the closets, small and black but perfect for Beth to start carrying her stuff in again since her old one had been left back on the road at that godforsaken funeral home.<p>

With the mason jars shared out in the bags between them and wrapped in the clothes they'd found so they wouldn't clink too much, Daryl held her clothes in his hands as he made his way back to the living room. "Stay here," he murmured, dropping his bag down beside her as he headed to the door. "Saw some firewood on the porch, I'll grab one."

He was only gone a few seconds but when he came back she was standing by the mantle of the fireplace, holding a picture in her hands. When he spotted her running her thumb lightly over the glass he came up quietly behind her and peered down at the photo encased within. He didn't have to ask. The truth was she didn't even need to speak. They both saw the same thing when they looked at the photograph within, the family caught forever in that happy moment, trapped beneath the glass. Husband, wife, two daughters, standing on the porch of their little white farmhouse.

Not the same, but close enough to tug at the strings of her heart and send up an echo of a deeply rooted ache. His too, though the strings were far less deeply connected than hers, he was sure.

"C'mere." His voice was low and rough as he gently tugged the frame from her hands and set it onto the mantle. With she turned to look at him he dropped to his knees in front of the fire and she followed, watching as he set tinder into the fireplace and lit a flame, letting it grow until he could place the log on top of it. They sat in silence broken only by the crackling of the fire until he reached slowly for the balled up polo and cardigan and pressed them gently back into her hands.

"Someone told me once," Daryl began, his eyes on hers as he once again pushed back the thickness of his throat to put into words the things he thought she needed to hear, "Some things you just gotta put away. You gotta, or it'll kill you."

His gaze followed the pink of her tongue as it swept across her dry lips and the shift of her throat as she swallowed hard, before murmuring, "Pretty smart, whoever they were."

"Smartest girl I know." There was no hesitation in saying that, and not even the faintest hint of thickness in his throat. She was and always would be the cleverest, most clear-eyed person he knew, especially when it came to things like this. Daryl reached out and guided her hands towards the fire but didn't push her anymore, knowing it was something she had to do herself. "Gotta put it away, girl. Leave it behind."

And with one slow shaky nod, Beth did just that. She reached out her hands and dropped the blood-stained and memory-laden clothes into the hot, hungry flames. With eyes that could sometimes be just as observant as her own, Daryl saw the change go over her as the fire consumed not only fabric and thread but so much more; the pain of a car slamming into her side, the hazy knowledge that she'd almost been taken by black-hearted men who wanted to do unspeakable things to her. (The not-so-hazy knowledge that her own sister hadn't hesitated to believe her dead, to put more hope in finding her husband then the only family she had left.)

As the fire devoured all of that and more, Daryl saw the tension ease from the lines of her body as she exhaled in a slow sigh and relaxed back until the tight lines in her face disappeared.

When she turned to him again there was a smile on her lips that didn't falter even when he reached up without thinking to tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ears. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

"Oh yes."

He suddenly wasn't sure if she was talking about the flames, or the touch of his fingers across her cheek.

Maybe both. Because they both felt good to him, and again that feeling lingered even after the clothing had been burnt to a crisp and the fire extinguished.

* * *

><p>They hadn't had the fire burning for long but Daryl was still cautious as they slipped out of the farmhouse and crossed the long grass to the red barn. Walkers wouldn't get drawn by the smoke but humans might, and these days he was more worried about walkers than humans, most of the time anyway. He saw no one for now but that caution remained as Beth helped him slide off the plank of wood holding the barn doors shut and slowly pull them open.<p>

This barn held no death inside, at least, though the sight of those opening doors had made both of them hesitate for a few moments, teetering on the brink of memories like the edge of a sharp piece of shattered glass. (_I remember. When that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me._) But this time the doors didn't release the sickening smell of the long-dead. Only sun-warmed hay and the lingering scent of old manure. If there had been horses in here once- and the smell that lingered in the air implied there had been- they had long since been taken, or perhaps escaped. They saw no bones in the few stalls they checked, although Beth did find a bucket she decided would be good for bringing water into the mill from the creek outside.

She had attached it to the back of her new backpack where it clanged just faintly as she moved around the barn, exploring more but always staying within a few feet of him. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet and as he watched her he could see a weight upon her shoulders; not from the heat in the sun-warmed barn but from the memories he was sure it conjured up for her again.

"I had my first kiss in a barn just like this." Beth's voice broke into the stillness unexpectedly and when he looked over at her she was twirling a bit of hay in her fingers with a shy little smile. "With Jimmy." The dart of her glance up at him and then away reminded him of that hint of electricity he'd felt again and again today, lingering each time he was close to her and never quite fading. For the first time he wondered if maybe she felt it too, though he was quick to discard it. Just as quick as he was to attribute the blush on her cheeks to the warmth of the barn as she added, "It was kinda nice. He just kissed me quick and then got all flustered and ran off. Came up to me later and apologized and said his Ma would've been ashamed of him for not being a gentlemen with me."

She was quiet for a moment, still twisting the hay beneath her fingers until she looked up at him again. "What was your first kiss like?"

The moment she asked the question, he chuckled all low and raspy. "Weren't nothin' like yours, that's for sure." He scuffed his foot on the ground and let his crossbow hand low from the strap he'd twisted between his fingers. "Was 16 or so. At some dive bar with Merle. Got me in because his friend owned it. Some girl there with her friend, hanging all over Merle. Think he dared her to do it or somethin', I dunno." He shrugged, his back all hunched up. "Don't remember much of it."

That wasn't entirely true. He remembered some of it.

He remembered that her hair had been blonde but not like Beth's. Brassy, like a bad dye job or one gone all faded, cause her eyebrows had been brown instead. He remembered she'd swayed on the way over to him and that her breath had smelled like gin, so strong it had reminded him of his Mama on her bad nights, when she drank the strong stuff so she'd forget the way his Pa had beaten her. He remembered that her lips were all wet and that after she'd pushed him away and laughed and Merle had called him _Darylina_ all night for not seeming to want more.

(He remembered nothing of that feeling he got sometimes now, like heat or electricity fizzling under his skin.)

And the truth was that most of his memories were like that. All tinged with Merle and hazy with liquor or something even stronger, and very rarely with a glimpse of any emotions beyond anger or sorrow or frustration. He didn't have many like hers, many he could remember fondly or laugh over in a good sort of way. Not before this, anyway. Not before her.

Daryl didn't realize how long he'd been staring at the ground until he looked up and realized Beth was only a couple feet away from him now, studying him with those big damn eyes like she could see right into him. He reckoned if anyone could, it was her. When it came to Beth it was like his skin was glass and she could see right through it to what he kept hidden away inside.

"Would you have liked your first kiss to be like mine? In a barn like this, with a girl you liked?" There was something in her voice he couldn't pinpoint, something soft and… almost breathy. Almost hopeful, in a way.

Confused, he furrowed his brow and peered down at her. "But it weren't. An' anyway, weren't ever no girl I liked would've done that."

She took a step closer and tipped her head back to peer up at him, still all soft and sweet. "But what if it could have been? What if you could have a first kiss with a girl you liked, in a barn like this?"

"Told you," Daryl said roughly, "Ain't possible…"

"_Daryl._" This time when she looked up at him she reached out slowly and rested her hand lightly on his chest, and there it was back again, the fizzle beneath his skin just itching to be named or freed. Or perhaps the freedom came in the naming of it, in the understanding. Her eyes held his as if willing to understand as she breathed out slowly, "But what if it could be?" She paused just a beat and a shy little smile curved up her lips. "What if it _can_ be?"

And then finally, it clicked.

_Oh._

"Beth…" He didn't know what else to say. He didn't know what else to do, except she was right there looking up at him with her cheeks flushed and her eyes all big and shiny and her soft pink lips parted and it hit him that this was real. That Beth Greene really was looking at him like that (again), really was suggesting, well… _that_.

"I swear," she breathed out as she leaned up ever-so-slowly onto her toes. "If you call me kid again right now Daryl Dixon, I will push you into the hay, so help me God…"

It was so unexpected but so very Beth that all he could do was laugh and to his surprise the laughter eased some knot in his chest, and suddenly, it didn't seem quite so impossible. "You ain't a kid," he murmured, closing the gap between them in one small step and lifting his hand to carefully cup the side of her face. "You ain't even close to a kid, Beth. You're…"

(Perfect, beautiful, smart, clever, funny, sweet, too good for me, the prettiest girl I've ever seen… _Everything_.)

It was all right and yet at the same time, not enough. So instead of finishing the sentence, Daryl just leaned in and pressed his lips softly to Beth's.

And the fizzling under his skin was released, but instead of bursting free it sunk deeper instead, racing through his veins and into his lungs and heart, and finally it had a name that echoed through every inch of him as his lips stayed pressed to hers:

_Beth_.

* * *

><p><strong>**AN: I really, really enjoyed writing this update so I hope it showed. I had the end part written for about a week, but doing the rest today was just really easy and good and I love that. I've noticed I tend to do better when I focus on one fic for a bit, so I may try focusing on and updating this one only for at least this week, we'll see!**

**I recently posted a fanmix inspired by this story, it's what I listened to while writing this. I hope you'll check it out! You can find it on 8tracks at /burnedupasun/chasing-cars.**

**Hope you all liked it as much as I did. Please comment, if you feel like it. Comments are love. 3**


	8. Chapter 8

_******_**A/N: I apologize in advance if this is awful... the time change has me a little messed up (darn daylight savings time), and I have a bad toothache that's really making it hard to concentrate. Fingers crossed this isn't a mess!**

* * *

><p><em>Hay<em>. The scent of it lingered in Beth's nose as she walked a short distance behind Daryl on their way back towards the mill, and she was pretty sure the lingering aroma wasn't just because of the small piece of it she had slipped into her pocket and was toying with now as she walked.

She'd always had memories associated with the scent of hay; growing up on the farm it was impossible not to. Hay made her think of horses, of playing hide-and-seek with Shawn, of curling up in the loft with her CD player and a notebook to scribble in, or the sound of her Mama's voice calling her down for dinner.

Now the scent of it conjured a new, fresh memory. One that made her cheeks go the tiniest bit pink each time she replayed it in her mind, one that made her feel all warm and flustered like she was on the brink of something new, something both exciting and terrifying all at the same time. The scent of hay in her nose made her think of the press of Daryl's lips to hers; firm and warm and the tiniest bit dry. The rush of warmth through every inch of her like it was being carried from her lips to her veins and through all of her limbs.

The mess of thoughts hadn't come until after, because in that moment all she had been able to think was: _I'm kissing Daryl Dixon, and lord is it good_. No, it was only after that the other thoughts crept in. Only when she pulled back from him all flushed to see a similar pink to the tips of his ears, only when she'd opened her mouth to say something only to be cut off by him running his fingers roughly through his hair as he turned towards the door and gruffly muttered at her, "Should go."

That was it; two words. It was all he'd said to her since the kiss, but Beth wasn't too upset about that. Of course that was partially because she was still in a bit of a haze over having kissed him but also, well… it was Daryl. She had barely cracked the surface of him and yet she knew something of his complexities. After weeks of only the two of them side-by-side, sometimes with barely a word spoken by him, was this really much of a surprise?

No. Although her gaze did still stray again and again to his back as they walked back towards the old mill. She peered at him as if wishing she could crack open that handsome head and see inside to all the thoughts he kept hidden beneath. She wondered what he was thinking now, wondered what he had been thinking _then_, standing in that barn and leaning down to press his lips to hers.

She wondered… had there been a revelation, behind those guarded eyes?

There had been for her, but it had come before the familiar scent of hay and the warmth of the sun-drenched barn. It had come instead in the flicker of flames and the scent of her clothes burning up in front of her right along with some of the painful memories of her past. She had felt the fear evaporating as if the flames of the fire had turned it all to smoke that she could just purse her lips and blow away, and it was all because of Daryl. She had looked up and seen him, but she had also _seen_ him. She'd seen the look in his eyes that day in the cell when he'd come to tell him about Zach, when she'd felt his body tense beneath her hug and his hand rise slowly and oh-so-cautiously to cup her elbow. She'd seen his smoldering eyes looking at her from across a fire night after night until she'd made that first move, crossing to the other side of the fire to sit with him instead. She'd seen the pain in his eyes that day in the shack, both of them lit on moonshine and him like a scared child, screaming out in the voice of the father he was so terrified of becoming.

She had looked at him in that moment, lit by the fire that was burning up her bad memories and she had seen him lit up by his own fire, his hand thrust up defiantly against the night sky as they burned down not only their shelter for the night but more importantly, his past. His regrets, his fears, his memories… his dread that all of it would be in him forever, until she showed him how to leave it behind. Just like he had showed her now, his rough but gentle hands pressing those clothes into her hands like she'd handed him the first jar of moonshine to toss across the darkened living room full of unwanted memories.

As the flames crackled and snapped and devoured, Beth had looked at him and seen him looking right back as he had done so many times before. Watching her settle his bow into her arms, watching her crouch down to peer at the tracks of a rabbit dashed across the forest floor, watching her from across the table in a candlelight-lit kitchen with a universe of words in his eyes and nothing but an 'oh' on her lips in return.

It had been there in his eyes again. There had been a world full of emotion in his gaze and Beth had felt something rising up in her in response. Something so immense it might have been overwhelming, except that she had looked at him and _seen_ him and against the immensity of what she felt (what she realized she had been feeling for so long now, just building up inside of her so slowly) she set the simple knowledge that this was_Daryl_. What she felt might have verged on overwhelming, but it was Daryl. He might have been gruff, he might have had a past so dark it made her heart ache to even think about it… but she trusted him. With her life, actually, and she had even before he'd quite literally saved that life for her by chasing after that car until he caught her.

So it had been a little frightening to suddenly look at him and realize just what it was she was feeling, but it was hard to truly be scared because it was _him_. The same man who had never left her side, who had made sure her first drink was memorable, who had taught her to hunt and track and believed in her ability to do so. The same man who had run miles and miles to catch her and carried her to safety in his exhausted arms; the same arms that had wrapped around her and held her close, anchoring her against the pain of realizing that her sister didn't believe in her and maybe never truly had.

Remembering that had only added to the butterflies in her stomach as she'd stood in that barn watching him, unable to think of anything but what a good man he was and how he deserved all the happy memories he could possibly have.

Like being kissed in a sun-warmed barn by a girl who liked him. A girl who looked into his eyes and thought she saw the same tidal wave of emotions that she felt swirling like butterflies in her own stomach.

Beth hadn't wondered then what he was thinking, but she did now. She might have been able to look into him sometimes and just see to the heart of him, but she was so far from understanding everything about Daryl Dixon. He was a mystery in a myriad of ways, but she liked that about him. She liked not knowing, even if it was a little scary in moments like this where she felt like she had her toes right on the edge of a precipice and she just wanted to know if his hand was going to be in hers when she took that leap over it.

He hadn't left her alone yet. Beth had faith that he wouldn't do it now, either.

She wondered if maybe he needed the same reassurance. If he did, that at least was easy to give. Beth just picked up her pace a tiny bit to come up beside him and turned her head, finding his eyes hiding beneath his long fringe of hair and giving him a soft smile. That was all. Just a soft smile and the brush of her arm against his as they walked, but simple as it was it felt like enough.

Especially when she saw the corner of his lips tug up briefly in response, and especially when he didn't make a move to pull away. He just kept walking beside her, slowing his pace instinctively to match her own. It wasn't a hand in hers as they plunged over the edge, but she wasn't alone and standing on her own, either.

So for now it was more than enough for Beth.

* * *

><p>Daryl thought he had never felt so out of his depth before, and yet... maybe that wasn't entirely true. Because when he thought back over the last few weeks, he remembered time after time where little Beth Greene had swept the rug out from underneath him and left his head spinning. She dazed him again and again and yet each time she also seemed to anchor him… as if he were a balloon on a string, buffeted by the breeze but secured by a string looped around her slender fingers.<p>

He had been brought to tears at the shack in the woods only to be anchored by her arms wrapped around his back. He had felt breathless at the sight of her so easily settling his crossbow into her arms and yet anchored the moment she had turned to smile at him. He had been rendered speechless in that funeral home and the flickering candlelight and that one word, that _oh_, had both buffeted him and tethered him all at the same time.

Over and over again she had knocked him down and picked him right back up again and today was no different except that with the sensation of being adrift-yet-tethered there was also the lingering warmth of her lips against his own. Despite the kiss having long-since ended, it was almost like he could still feel her lips pressed to his. Like some sentimental idiot, he very nearly lifted his fingers to his lips before he caught himself.

In the back of his mind he could almost hear Merle calling him _Darylina_, mocking him for being so flustered by a simple damn kiss.

But that was the thing. It wasn't a simple kiss, because it was Beth. Sweet, strong Beth… so like the girl's he'd occasionally seen as a kid, those perfect pristine girls with twirling sundresses and ribbons in their hair and clean white socks on their feet. Girls like that had never wanted anything to do with him, and by all rights he would have assumed Beth would be the same, but of course she wasn't. Beth wasn't like _anyone_ he'd ever met before. She was as tough as she was soft, as strong as she was sweet.

Sometimes she reminded him of a tree. Soft enough to sway in the breeze but with roots that went down deep, keeping her standing strong even in the midst of the toughest storms.

There he was getting all poetic again, but he couldn't seem to help it. She just brought it out of him. She brought a _lot_ of stuff out of him, whether she was nearby or not. Right now, for example. He'd left her inside- insisting gruffly that she rest her ankle for a bit- and gone out to fill the bucket with water from the stream and do a few circles around their 'camp' to look for walkers or dinner or whatever else he could find. She was safely inside with several walls between them and yet still she filled his thoughts, still she guided his movements even without him realizing it.

After a half hour he had a pair of squirrels already skinned and cleaned and strung up over his shoulder, but he also had something that even better, at least in his mind. He'd come upon a beech tree at the perfect time; the nuts just ripe enough to eat but not so much that they'd dropped to the ground to be devoured by animals. He'd gathered up as many beechnuts as he could fit, wrapping them in his bandana and sticking them in his pockets before he headed back towards the mill.

Beth would be happy to see them. That was the thought that stuck in his mind from the moment he'd laid eyes on that tree. He could just imagine the way her face would light up and how she'd probably instantly launch into some idea for how to cook them. The anticipation had his pace picking up as he strode back towards their shelter, forgetting in his enthusiasm to worry about what they'd done earlier in the barn.

(Though he had worried before, over and over again as they'd left the barn and walked back towards the Mill. His mind had churned over questions one after the other. Had he made a mistake? Did _she_ think she'd made a mistake? Should he say something? Was she going to? What did it all mean? What was gonna happen next? And then she'd come up beside him and lightly brushed her arm against his and suddenly, it had all seemed to silly to worry about… for now, anyway.)

Those worried thoughts were far from his mind now as he moved across the field towards the kudzu-covered building in the distance, the squirrels swinging at his back and the beech nuts lightly shaking in his pockets. His only thought was to get back to Beth, to see the way she lit up at what he'd brought back to her.

He pushed open the door of the mill, bringing the bucket of water in with him and setting it to the side as he bolted the door and barred it with the old table before making his way upstairs. Though he looked around as he climbed the stairs, he knew where he'd find her. Sure enough as he reached the top floor, his eyes landed on her right where he'd expected. She was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, now covered by the new blanket she'd found at the house they'd gone to today. In front of her Beth had lined up the mason jars in a neat row beside the stove and he wasn't sure why, but something about it struck him as oddly… homey.

Or what he imagined homey might feel like, anyway. He didn't have much experience with it himself.

"Takin' inventory?" Despite his poetic thoughts of a few moments ago, Daryl's voice was as gruff and low as usual as he came around the table towards the mattress where she lay. Despite his gruffness though, there was a softness to his expression that most people probably wouldn't have noticed.

(Beth was, as always, far from most people.)

She looked up at him with a warm smile and a chuckle as she replied, "Sort of. I just thought they looked nice like that, actually." When he hummed and unslung his bow to slowly hang it over the back of an old wooden chair, she went on, "My Mama used to do that sometimes. After she canned, she'd line them all up on the counter for my Daddy to see when he came home… but then she'd leave it for a few days. She said she liked how it looked."

Beth's gaze strayed back to the jars but Daryl's stayed on hers, studying the look on her face, equal parts fondness and longing as she ran her fingers across the tops of the jars. "I always thought they looked pretty, especially when the sun came in. All those nice colors, you know?"

He didn't know. Or he hadn't until now. But when he murmured, "Yeah," back at her, it wasn't the jars of canned vegetables he was looking at but the curve of her pink cheek and the tendril of blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail to trail across it. Realizing he was staring a bit, (and feeling again like a sentimental fool), Daryl cleared his throat and pulled the looped string of squirrels off his belt to show them to her instead. "Got us dinner…"

It was nothing special, nothing they hadn't had probably far too many times before, and yet she still grinned up at him at the sight of the skinned animals dangling in front of her. "Daryl, that's great! We can cook those up maybe with come of this corn, that sounds good, doesn't it?"

She was already leaning over to reach for a jar of corn when Daryl cleared his throat and stuffed his hand in his pockets. "Got somethin' else, too." He waited until she looked up at him and still hesitated, but only for a moment. Shoulders hunched and head ducked, he pulled his bandana free and offered it carefully to her. It wasn't like he was nervous or something. It was just beech nuts, after all.

But there was still a look of anticipation on his face as Beth settled the bandana into her lap and opened it, one corner at a time as if she were unwrapping a present for Christmas or something. "Oh Daryl!" She gave a little intake of breath and then looked up at him and yeah, there it was. Her smile. Like the damn sun coming out from behind the clouds or something as she just beamed up at him and exclaimed brightly and happily, "You found _beech nuts_!"

"Yeah…" He scuffed his foot on the ground and shrugged, the downward tilt of his head hiding his hint of a smile. "Ain't nothin' much though, just found 'em in the woods."

"Well I think it's somethin' special. I _love_ beechnuts."

"You do?" He peered up at her from under his fringe and sure enough she was still smiling like the sun at him, the rays of it even reaching through the shield of hair across his face.

"I do! We're going to eat like the king and queen of the mill tonight."

"Queen of the Mill, hm?" Daryl snorted down at her and shook his head, but then stretched out his hand towards her in offering. "Well c'mon, _your highness_. Time to cook some squirrels. If that ain't beneath you."

"Daryl Dixon, nothing involving you in beneath me." Beth gripped his hand and rose to her feet and Daryl suddenly felt that sort of rootless feeling again. He wasn't sure whether it was her bubbly laughter, or the sudden nearness of her body so close to his, or her hand still clasped in his own, but all he could do was stand there blinking at her until suddenly she smiled and squeezed his hand… and he was anchored once more. Or at least tethered.

Merle would have made some joke about a dog on a leash or a ball and chain, but the truth was, Daryl had never felt anchored in his life before, in any way at all… and the truth was he didn't really mind it one bit.

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><p>Dinner was one of the best he remembered having in a while. Beth roasted the squirrel, corn, and beachnuts all together and it was almost like a real dinner, even if they didn't have plates. They just ate it right out of the pot with their hands, and who needed a fork when instead he got to watch Beth giggling as she scooped dinner into her mouth with her slender fingers?<p>

After, there was a moment where he didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He just stood there kinda hulking over her, hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched again, probably looking as awkward as he felt. But she just curled up on the mattress with her legs tucked to the side and patted the space next to her with a soft smile. "C'mon, King of the Mill. You get to choose the book tonight. You want to finish reading the one we started, or start another one?"

With a slight grunt, he lowered himself down beside her on the mattress and gave a little shrug to say he didn't care either way. But then she leaned into him just enough for their arms to brush, and the warmth of her touch had him muttering, "Finish the one from yesterday." He hesitated, and then reached out to tap the cover of it. "Wanna see if he gets that damn Falcon or not, y'know?"

"Oh good choice, me too!" Beth gleefully picked it up and flipped to the page she'd marked by turning down the corner. Soon the room was filled with her soft, melodious voice, and Daryl just let himself relax and get pulled right back into the story. He was so relaxed that when he took over reading for her a short while later, he didn't even flinch at how she shifted to lean against him, or at how eventually she ended up with her cheek resting on his shoulder as she peered down at the book in his lap.

It was twenty minutes later that his voice trailed off and he glanced down at Beth to realize she'd fallen asleep. Her cheek was pillowed on his chest, her cheeks faintly rosy from the shared warmth of their bodies and the fire in the iron stove. She was curled up against him with one of the blankets tugged up over her shoulder and as he watched her, he found himself noticing the littlest things… like the fringe of her eyelashes against her skin, or the faint smile on her lips even in sleep… or the way looking at her like this had him feeling all strange again, like something inside of him was suddenly so light he could up and float away and yet all he wanted was to stay right here. With her.

Even in sleep the girl could knock him onto his ass; metaphorically, anyway. But that was Beth. Hard but soft, strong but sweet. Figured a girl like him could hit him in the gut just by falling asleep on his shoulder. It was terrifying and yet he didn't feel the need to run, didn't feel the need to push her off him and growl and stalk away like some antisocial animal.

_She's changing you, baby brother. Got you wrapped around her finger. That ain't no anchor, s'ball and chain Darylina, and you know it._

Merle's voice echoed through his mind, travelling down paths it had long since worn into his psyche but for once it didn't work. For once, Merle's voice didn't worm it's way into his mind. For once he shook it off with a grimace that smoothed out the moment he looked down at Beth, curled up against him. She looked so… content, and peaceful, and maybe even _happy_.

She looked the way he felt right now with her laying against him. Like they'd been given this moment, brief as it might have been, just to be content. Just to have peace.

Before her, it hadn't really been the sort of thing he'd have thought he wanted and yet right now, he thought he might aggressively charge down anything that dared interrupt the quiet, simple moment. So when Beth stirred against him, blinking up at him and mumbling a sleepy, "Daryl?" He just shook his head and slung his arm around her back.

"Shh," he murmured, his hand coming to rest on her slender shoulder as he nudged her into resting her cheek back against his. "S'alright. Go t'sleep, Beth. I got you."

Half-asleep, she sighed out, "Promise?"

"Always." He didn't even have to think about it. He would watch her all night long if it meant letting her have the peaceful moment she deserved.

(The peaceful moment maybe they _both_ deserved.)

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><p>"Daryl! Daryl wake up!" His eyes were fluttering open even before she began to gently shake his shoulder, and by the time her fingers curled in tighter he was sitting up sharply to shoot her a worried look.<p>

"Beth?" His sleep-rough voice ground out the worried words, "What is it? Y'okay?" The contentedness of the night must have lured him to sleep, though he couldn't remember much of that. That warm peacefulness was gone now, banished by the jarring way he'd been woken up and that anxious look in her big blue eyes.

"I'm okay but I think something happened, Daryl. C'mon, you have to come see."

"Beth…" But she was already climbing to her feet and tugging him with her, and even if he'd wanted to protest he couldn't. Not when she was looking at him with those big damn eyes like she _needed_ him to come with her.

"C'mon, hurry…"

He stopped only long enough to grab the strap of his bow and sling it over his back and then he was following her, fingers straying instinctively to the hilt of the knife he wore at his waist. He only pulled his hand away from it to remove the table that was propped up against the door and then back to the knife his fingers went as he followed her out into the early morning sunlight.

"Alright," he grunted, worry lending a sharper edge to his already gruff voice. "What the hell is it, Beth?"

"Look." For a moment he just blinked at her, until his gaze shifted to follow her outstretched arm and pointed finger… and then he saw it.

Curling above the tree tops far off in the distance; a thick, heavy cloud of smoke. Something was burning.

Something _big_.

And he thought he had a feeling exactly what it was.

"Beth, we need to get inside. _Now_."

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><p><strong>**AN: Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnn! Hope you liked it? Reviews are love, thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

****A/N: I intended to update this a few days ago, but man do toothaches + anxiety make for bad writing conditions! I hope this chapter is okay, I'm worried it's a bit dull, but it's a very important building conversation for them.**

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><p>"Beth, we need to get inside. <em>Now<em>."

The smoke billowed above the trees, too far away for them to scent on the air but no less blatantly noticeable now that he was out here. Ominous though it was, the smoke nonetheless only held his attention for a moment or two more before Daryl was turning around to eye the woods that edged the field around them instead. His sharp eyes searched the tree-line for any sign of movement in the shadows.

"Beth," he half-growled her name again when she didn't move from her spot staring over the trees, and turned urgently towards her to add."Beth, we gotta get _inside_."

"Why?" There was a distant look in her eyes that cleared as she turned towards him, as if focusing on him banished the cloud of thoughts in her mind, at least for the moment. "Daryl, what is that? What do you think happened?"

"Nothin' good." Daryl grunted out the words with a frown that only deepened as Beth started to turn to look back at the smoke. "Beth." He reached out without hesitating this time, curling his fingers around her forearm until she glanced up at him with a look of surprise in her eyes. "Listen to me. That smoke, whatever it is, it's gonna draw every walker nearby. You understand?"

It was only then that he saw it. The widening of her eyes and the dawning understanding that followed as she drew in a sharp intake of breath. But there was no panic. On the heels of her realization came a sharpening of her gaze, that strength he so admired in her and the common sense that had helped keep them both alive. A bit breathless, she urgently explained, "There was an explosion, too. You were asleep, that's how I found it. They'll have heard…"

"It'll be even worse, then." In his mind they were already all around them, potential herds of walkers closing in on them foot by foot as they instinctively trundled towards the explosion and the smoke in the sky. Daryl's fingers curled the tiniest bit tighter around her arm as he fought the unexpected urge to pull her close, as if he could shield her in his arms from what might be about to come. As if he could become a wall, wrapped around her, sheltering her from the rising tide or the swelling storm. It was a silly urge. Beth could protect herself and even if she couldn't, the mill behind them was a far safer shelter than his arms.

And yet… and yet the feeling lingered and he allowed some of it to take root, just enough for his hand to smooth down over her arm and around to her back as he tugged her the slightest bit closer to him.

Daryl looked down and into her eyes and for a second they just stood like that, holding each other's gazes and breathing in to the same slow rhythm until finally, Beth nodded and murmured, "We should get inside. Board up the doors, make sure the windows are covered, get up to the top floor…"

"Hole up and ride it out?" It had been his plan too, and he was glad to see she was on the same page as him. It was, after all, a far better idea than the thought that he could keep her safe here just by wrapping her in his arms.

(Even if that idea still lingered in the recesses of his mind as he turned and guided her back into the Mill.)

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><p>Daryl wished he'd had time to head into the woods. Maybe get some more of those beechnuts Beth had loved so much last night or bag a couple of squirrels, but he couldn't risk it. They both knew there were walkers in the woods and there was no doubt that they'd be lured towards the distant explosion and subsequent fire and smoke.<p>

He'd had just enough time to fill their bucket and all their bottles with water from the stream, and even that had been a risk. In fact he'd just been ducking into the door of the mill when he heard the distant groan of the first walker coming out of the woods. Beth had worked her way around the bottom floor making sure all the windows were closed and covered, and she moved slowly back to his side as he bolted the door and wedged the table up against it.

"C'mon," he whispered, lifting the bucket as he handed her the bag with the water bottles inside of it. "Upstairs."

There was no need to say more. Even with everything barred and blocked it wasn't safe to stay down here, talking and risking they might be heard. With Beth moving slowly but surely in front of him they made their way up to the third floor and relative safety.

"Should be alright," he murmured as he set the bucket of water carefully on the table. "Got enough water and food for a bit and it'll be safer in a day or two."

"Daryl…"

He could feel her gaze on him as he spoke, staying steady even as he reached for the bag and began to unload the bottles of water as well. He knew that she wanted to ask him something, knew even what it was just from the heaviness of her voice and the weight of her gaze on him. Putting it off as long as he could, Daryl kept going, "We'll just stay up here an' wait it out. Should be fine."

"Daryl…" He almost didn't look at her but then she curled her fingers lightly around his arm and he couldn't resist. Daryl glanced slowly over at her, eyes finding hers from under the fringe of his hair and wondering if she could see the worry in his eyes. He could see it in her own after all, especially as she murmured, "Whatever it was that burned up. Was it… I mean, you know, the railroad tracks…"

Daryl paused for just a second and then slowly nodded. "Yeah. Reckon it was that place... Terminus." He wasn't sure why he was so hesitant to confirm that. No, that wasn't true. He knew why, and it wasn't because he was unsure about exactly what direction that smoke had come from. It was because last night, he had been so completely at peace with Beth asleep and tucked up against him. Last night he had thought they were _finally_getting the peaceful moment they deserved and he would have challenged anything that dared interrupt that.

And now something had, and a part of him was worried. Because this wasn't something he could challenge. This was something that, despite what had happened to Beth the last time they'd been on those railroad tracks, might still pull her away from him. And he would never challenge her. He would follow after her to the ends of the earth, even if in the pit of his stomach was a thick and heavy sense of dread that it really might turn out to be the end. That was why he was worried. Because if he confirmed that it was the place he suspected, it might somehow lead to him losing her.

"Do you think they…" She started only to trail off, and despite his own worry he felt as if bands were clenching around his heart at the sight of the worry in _her_ eyes.

"I dunno, Beth." Daryl ran his hand roughly through his hair. "We don't even know if they were there at all, if any of them made it there. Maybe they did that themselves, blew the place up… we just… we don't know." His words trailed off as he hesitated for a few seconds. He felt as if he were standing right on the edge of something and he knew he could pull back, maybe even change the subject, and Beth wouldn't push. But he had to ask. For _her_. It wouldn't be fair not too, it wouldn't be fair to deny her the chance even if it made his gut clench, and so he took the words that weighed like heavy stones in his chest and dragged them up in a hoarse whisper, "You wanna go find out?"

Blue eyes held blue for a long moment that was punctuated only by the rapid beating of his heart, so loud he wondered if she could hear it, louder and louder each second she was silent, until finally she breathed out in reply, "No."

It was the answer he'd wanted and yet at the same time not the one he'd expected from her. It was so unexpectedly that when she spoke all Daryl could do was furrow his brow at her and ask hesitantly, "No?"

"Daryl…" Beth trailed off for a moment and he could almost see her thinking it over, trying to find the right words to say. Which was odd for him in a way… she'd always been the one who knew what to say and he'd always been the one who fumbled over it, at least in his mind. "It's because of multiple things, I guess. I mean, logically I know it's a bad idea. All those walkers are gonna be headed there, the woods will probably be full of them for the next few days or longer, and that's not even taking into account what that place will be like. Probably crawling with them. So even if we could reach it, we'd have to face everything that's waiting there and, well... and we don't know anything about that place, either. What happened, who it was, who was even _there_."

She breathed in and out and he was surprised to notice that she was actually trembling, albeit faintly, as she went on, "It might be Maggie, but it might… it might not be. It might even be Rick and the others but… but we don't know and they… and it ain't…" Daryl started to reach out, her name on his lips, but he only got halfway before she was spitting out her real worries in a voice that rose with each word, "And it ain't like _she_ came looking for me, is it? She had a chance. She had all the chances with those signs, and she just- She gave up on me. She didn't even _try_ to look for me, so… So why should I? Why should I look for _her_, Daryl?"

Beth's voice was tight and high, and each word brought with it a tightening of that band around his heart until he ached with it in a way he wasn't at all used to. This time he did reach out. His hand found the side of her shoulder and gently cupped it as he looked into her eyes, and for once the words came right to his lips, as solid and sure as the truth always was. "Because you're a good person."

The breath she drew in was slow and ragged and her eyes were so damn wide as they found his. "Says the man who never believed in good people before."

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged, because he didn't know what else to do. "You know I do now." Daryl swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he looked down at the ground for a long moment before glancing up at her carefully from under his fringe of hair to add in a low, near-whisper the words he hadn't been able to voice before, "Cause of you."

He could see the _oh_ in her eyes without her even needing to voice it, just as he could see the faint smile that tugged at the corners of her lips and made her watery eyes glisten for a moment before she swallowed as hard as he had and gave a slow nod.

"Look. S'like you said, we can't go now anyway." Daryl's hand lightly squeezed her shoulder again. "Even if it wasn't a risk cause of the walkers, an' not knowin' what that place was… there's no way in hell I'm goin' there without you healed first, okay?"

Again Beth just nodded, and he found himself distantly amused at the fact that somehow the tables had turned, that he was the one talking while she just mutely listened and nodded in reply. Hell, it was amusing simply for the fact that he was actually talking and not just grunting at her, but somehow Beth just seemed to pull it out of him.

He knew, as much as it confused him, that it was only because it was her. Just like it was her that had him going on softly, "So we'll wait here, where it's safe. An' you'll heal. An' then, _maybe_, we'll try to make our way towards that place. But we'll be careful, we'll make sure we know what we're getting into first, alright?" His hand moved almost of it's own volition, fingers grazing her cheek to brush a stray bit of hair behind her ear. Just the brush of the pads of his fingers over her skin had Daryl's breath hitching, but he kept his eyes on hers as he murmured lowly, "Cause I ain't riskin' you gettin' hurt, okay? I ain't riskin' either of us."

It was only half a minute at most, if that, but the moment in which Beth held his gaze seemed to go on forever. There was so much swirling through the cornflower blue of her eyes that he almost felt like he could fall right into it, especially when she was just slightly tipping her head against the touch of his fingers to her cheek. When she finally broke the silent moment her voice was soft but sure as she echoed him, "Me either. I don't want to risk either of us, Daryl. I think…" A furrow appeared in her brow for just a moment before it smoothed out, and she looked firmly into his eyes and went on, "I think that should be our priority."

"Not risking each other?" Despite the serious conversation, the corner of his lip quirked briefly up.

"No. Well yes, but I mean… us. You and me. We should be our priority. Staying safe and alive, surviving… _together_." She swallowed hard after the last word, and somehow he felt the depth of it even more keenly. It was like that one word- _together_- just dropped into him, sinking like a stone in a pond. Slowly but surely settling so very deep within him. Perhaps even right in his heart, beneath the safe cage of his ribs.

So he nodded, because there was no other response he truly wanted to give other than agreement. Well that, and a simple, "Okay." He was, after all, a man of few words. Although these days Beth seemed to be drawing more and more of them out of him.

He could feel them bubbling to his lips even now as she smiled up at him and matched his nod with one of her own to repeat, "Okay." Then, with a widening of her smile and a visible ease in the tension of her body, she went on, "So whatever we do… the most important thing is keeping each other safe. Staying together. Everything else is secondary. Even…"

Beth trailed off as her gaze turned towards the window, to the smoke he knew was there in the distance though they couldn't see it from this angle. "Even that," he finished for her lowly. Even the possibility of their friends and family who might or might not be there. Because that was the thing, wasn't it? Rick, Maggie, and the others… they _might_ have been there. But they might not have been. Beth on the other hand was here, without a doubt, right in front of him.

A few days ago he had almost lost that certainty, had almost lost _her_. He had already promised himself never to let that happen again, so it was easy to promise the same thing aloud to her, especially when she was so determined to do the same.

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><p>At first they spent some time just organizing their supplies, counting out their jars and cans of food and making plans for each day to see how long it might last. But soon he couldn't help noticing how Beth's gaze kept straying to the windows. Despite their decision, he knew she was curious. Hell, she was too.<p>

But all it really took was a few minutes looking outside to know they'd made the right choice for now, at least. "There's at least a half dozen or more of them on this side," Daryl murmured, pushing aside the sack they'd used as covering to peer out of the dirt-streaked mirror. His gaze picked out each of the walkers moving through the field; a pair of the just below the window each missing an arm, another beyond them in the field with half it's face gone, several more in the distance but slowly coming closer.

"More of them over here," Beth murmured, careful to be quiet even though the windows were closed and the old glass was good and thick. Daryl came up slowly behind her, peering over her shoulder into the sunlight field outside her window. There were at least seven or eight walkers currently trundling through the field on this side, all heading to the fire in the distance. They moved with determination, though some of them dragged their feet on the ground and others stumbled or even crawled. He knew there were more in the woods; even now he could see one stepping out in the distance.

There'd be more to come, too. He didn't know who'd caused the explosion and why, but he wondered if they had considered the ramifications of it. Maybe they had. Maybe it was part of their plan, whoever they were and whatever the original idea had been behind blowing up a place in the middle of the damn end of the world. Maybe they'd had no intention of being anywhere near Terminus- whatever Terminus was- when the explosion brought all the walkers in the area right to it.

If he was them, he'd have gotten the hell out of dodge, after all.

"I hope they're okay." Beth's soft murmur broke the silence and he looked down to see a faint furrow in her brow again. "Whoever they are."

"If they're good, anyway," Daryl remarked lowly, unable to help it. "If they deserve t' be okay." Because of her he did believe that there were good people in the world still. There was her, at the very least. But he couldn't help remembering those cops and what they had wanted to do to her, what they _would_ have done to her had he not stopped them.

Whatever Terminus was, he wouldn't wish that the people there were okay if they were anything like those men. He'd only hope that they got what was coming to them. Looking out over the trees to the distant smoke, he wondered if maybe that was exactly what happened. Maybe someone had gotten what was coming to them.

Maybe it was easier to think of that than to consider that it might be their family there at risk.

What pulled him out of his gradually darkening thoughts was the feeling of Beth slowly leaning back into him bit by bit, until her back rested against his chest lightly but warmly. "If it is them," she murmured, "If it's our people… they'll be okay. They're survivors, you know? Like us. Even if we knew for sure it was them, going there now would just be… a death wish. It wouldn't help anyone. Not them, or us."

"Are you tryin' to convince me of that?" Daryl's hand came to rest very lightly against her hip, hesitantly, as if he were almost afraid to touch her. Or not afraid, just unsure if he had the right. But the moment he did it, he felt her leaning back into him more, even as he asked, "Or yourself?"

Beth hummed at the question and looking down he could see a faint hint of a smile on her lips. "Maybe both of us."

He was quiet for a long moment, the two of them just staring out the window, watching the walkers make their slow trundle past on the ground beneath them. When he finally spoke his voice was hesitant, a hint of roughness to the edge of it. "I ain't gonna tell you it'll all be alright. Y' know I ain't that kinda guy." She didn't respond out loud, though her felt her shift back against him and knew she'd heard, knew maybe she understood even if she might not fully agree. "But…" He stumbled a bit over the words, but she was patient. She was always so damn patient with him, even when it took him awhile to find the right thing to say or do. "But you're right about 'em bein' strong. Maybe not as strong as you but they ain't so bad." He might not have been able to reassure her, but maybe he could help her relax, anyway.

He felt her laughter before he heard it. The way her shoulders shook right before that little giggle bubbled out her, like sunshine given it's own sound. Her head tipped back, filling his nose with a whiff of the faintest hint of sweetness that clung to her hair even though it had been so long since they'd washed up, before she tilted her head to look up at him and scoffed, half-playful and half-serious, "Come on. You can't think I'm as strong as Michonne, or Carol…"

Both of them could likely hear the echo of old words in that question. _I'm not Michonne, I'm not Maggie, I'm not Carol…_

"You are, just… in your own way." Again Daryl's brow furrowed, because Beth's strength was yet another thing that was hard to explain in words. "You're strong for hoping. For believin' in them even now. For even believin' in your sister when she ain't believed in you." He exhaled roughly, and let his other hand rest on her opposite hip and for just a moment it was like he was cradling her. Like that day in the woods after she'd run away from the train tracks and he'd caught up to her and held her, wrapping his arms around her from behind the way she had to him weeks ago.

Only some how this felt even more intimate. Perhaps because it wasn't so rawly emotional, because neither of them were caught up in the moment and crying. Maybe that was why it reminded him instead of the scent of hay and the warmth of her lips on his just yesterday. Maybe that's why it felt like more than just a comfort, why it felt so… right.

"It's like you said the other day," Daryl cleared his throat and went on after a moment, looking down at her where she had come to rest against his chest, "About being like this mill, about you gettin' ground up and made finer an' stronger."

"Kinda makes it fitting, doesn't it?" Beth hummed with amusement.

"What?"

"Staying here for now, in the mill. Waiting until I've healed, until we're both stronger before goin' out there. Sort of like gettin' ground up a bit more except-" She giggled and he heard that sunshine again. "-less painful."

"All in all," Daryl murmured as he looked over her shoulder again and back out the window. "I'd chose the kinda grindin' up that involves eating warm meals and readin' books with you over anything else."

"You know what?" He could feel her beneath his palms as she half-turned to look up at him, could feel the slide of clothes over her hips beneath his hands as she moved. The softness of her body even under her clothing was distracting for a few moments before he blinked and focused on her, just in time to see her lips curve up in a smile as she finished, "Me too."

He thought in that moment about kissing her again. With her looking up at him, one of his hands on the small of her back and the other on the taut flat of her stomach, and her head tipped back just right… he thought about how easily it would be again to just leaned down and press his lips to hers. He remembered the scent of hay and thought that he had already done it once… couldn't he do it again? Couldn't he at least _ask_ her if she wanted him to do it again?

Only before he could, there came a loud bang and thump from beneath them, and they both jumped. In a second instinct kicked in; honed by months and months on the run. They both went tense, pulling upright and shifting quickly to peer out the window. Down below, a walker was slamming itself into the wall, pressing it's hands to the downstairs windows as it slid around the side of the house.

He felt Beth shudder, still close to him, and at the same time they both took a step back. "Should stay away from the windows, just in case." He grunted the words out simply, even though again he felt that protective urge rising in him.

"They can't… smell us or something, can they? Or hear us?" There was no tremble in Beth's voice; she was too strong, too brave for that now. But he could see the worry in his eyes and he wanted to reassure her, despite believing he had never been the reassuring type.

"Dunno," was unfortunately the best he could manage. But though he had no intention of lying, he felt guilty for not being able to reassure her, so after a moment Daryl went on,"We'll stay up here, stay quiet. Don't start a fire unless we have to, after dark. Should be okay as long as we keep our heads down and stay silent. Don't give anything to draw 'em to us."

"Well." She clasped her hands in front of her, giving him a smile as sweet as if he'd told her they were about to go for a picnic in the park, or somethin'. Not that he'd even gone to a park really, let alone had a picnic with one.

(And not, of course, that he'd thought about doing that with Beth maybe once or twice, when he imagined them in a better world than this one.)

Beth's voice was as sweet as her smile as she easily went on, "I guess it's time to curl up with another book then, hm? You, me, a blanket, and a book. Sounds like a good day to me."

It sounded like a perfect day to him, and though he didn't say as much out loud, there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he followed after her right back to their little mattress, and the stack of books she'd set aside on the floor.

There might have been thoughts in the back of his mind threatening to weigh him down, coiling as thick and dark as the smoke in the distance that had sparked them. But that was there in the distance, far away over the trees, and Beth was here. She was right here beside him, tucked up against him, and with her melodious voice filling the air he let himself push aside what _might_ come and focus only on her and their new promise.

Surviving. _Together_.

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><p><strong>**AN: Hope you enjoyed! Reviews make me smile, and thanks for reading.**


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